We Seemed Like a Good Idea
by theatricalveggie
Summary: "Yeah, you should go." I pull him closer. An alternate telling of the end of Mockingjay from Tigris's basement through the epilogue. Canon-Divergent from Katniss's POV. Katniss and Peeta fight in the fall of the Capitol and grow back together.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This is my telling of Mockingjay, picking up from Chapter 23, when Katniss awakes to find Peeta and Gale talking, through the epilogue. This is my first fanfic. Enjoy! Also - random italics that aren't flashbacks or memories are quotes taken directly from Suzanne Collins.**

 _I slip back into consciousness and become aware of a quiet conversation. Peeta and Gale. I can't stop myself from eavesdropping._

 _"Thanks for the water," Peeta says._

 _"No problem," Gales replies._

 _"I wake up ten times a night anyway."_

 _"To make sure Katniss is still here?" asks Peeta._

 _"Something like that," Gale admits. There's a long pause before Peeta speaks again._

 _"That was funny, what Tigris said before. About no one knowing what to do with her."_

 _"Well, we never have," Gale says. They both laugh. It's so strange to hear them talking like this. Almost like friends. Which they're not. Never have been. Although they're not exactly enemies._

The laughing fades and the tone of their conversation shifts. "When this is all done, Gale, which I think it will be soon… You need to watch out for her. I don't know in what capacity she'll want both or either of us in her life, but you've always been her best friend. She's going to need that." Peeta says quietly.

"That's all I've ever tried to do," he replies back, his voice mirroring Peeta's serious tone.

"What I said before, about the pill… I mean that. And I think you agree with me."

My heart begins to pound in my chest. My body stiffens and I lay very still, keeping my eyes glued to the wall ahead of me.

"I killed a member of our team today. I'm sure Mitchell has a family - God, what if he has..." Peeta pauses. " _H_ _ad_ kids?" They both fall silent. "I'm not in control when I'm like that. And there is no way to keep me from triggers when we don't know what they are, let alone what's around the corner." More silence.

"She would never forgive me, Peeta, and you know that." Gale whispers back.

"She doesn't have to know." His voice is dripping with urgency. Frustration. "I'm not who she thinks I am. After I came to and I realized I killed Mitchell, I…" I hear his breath shaking. Peeta is trying to hold it together. I want to reach out and take his hand, but I stay in my cocoon of furs, paralyzed. "I felt sick. Once the fury of the venom subsided, and it was just me, I thought I was going to vomit. But then I felt happy."

I hold my breath. He felt happy over killing someone? Peeta?

"I don't believe for a second you were happy you killed Mitchell, Peeta," Gale snaps back.

"I wasn't happy I killed Mitchell. I was disgusted. But I was happy that I was disgusted. What kind of person thinks like that? Like I need to reaffirm I'm a good human being?" He holds his breath. "I see his face when I close my eyes. I hear his body being eviscerated by those blades. There is no saying that won't happen again, and the fact that I feel regret does not make me safe. I could get any one of us killed. I could kill any of us. I could kill her, Gale."

This time Gale sucks in his breath.

"You know I'm right. I barely held on in the tunnels earlier, and I only did because Katniss helped me. What if we're in the street, or in the President's mansion, and she puts me ahead of the mission? Me ahead of any of you? Me ahead of her?"

It's quiet for a long time. I hear my heart pounding in my ears. Peeta has always been good with words. Persuasive. I understand the logic behind his plea.

"Just… give me the pill, uncuff me, and I'll go and do it away from here. She'll just think I got away somehow, and when they find me after… I'll just be another casualty of the war."

"She will want to go looking for you," Gale says.

"That's where you come in. Keep her focused. You need to keep her safe now."

"She's too stubborn. You know that, too."

"Katniss already mourned for me, Gale. Prim told me how she was back in Thirteen. I'm not who I was. I'm not the same person who was going to meet her at midnight. That person is gone. Deep down, she knows that."

"She'll never let you go," Gale says with a hushed bitterness.

They are quiet again. I feel bile rise in my throat.

"I don't even remember choking her," Peeta confesses. I feel my heart stop, and my fingers involuntarily trace where his hands had circled my neck. "When we were on the Victory Tour, when we were trying to convince everyone the berries were about us and not about rebellion, we realized toward the end that we weren't doing enough. We weren't convincing anyone, let alone Snow. We were in District Four, at one of the parties, and Katniss grabbed my hand and pulled me away from the crowd. We snuck down a hall and found an open room - it looked like an office or something."

I remember that night vividly. I sat on the desk and looked at him.

 _"I think they should catch us." I say, as nonchalantly as I can manage._

 _"Catch us what?" Peeta smirks back at me._

 _"You know… in a compromising position."_

 _He gives me a lopsided smile and sits next to me on the desk. "Very funny, Katniss."_

 _"I'm serious!" I scowl at him and swat his arm._

 _"You need to work on your seduction skills." I feel my cheeks flush red. He smiles at me, "Everyone still thinks you're so innocent, Katniss, I think we should keep it that way. Make them want to keep you safe."_

 _"They watched me shoot an arrow through Marvel's throat, Peeta, no one thinks I'm innocent." I turn away from him, staring at the wall and trying hard to blink the tears out of my eyes before they threaten to ruin my prep team's make-up. I push the thoughts of Marvel and Rue from my mind._

 _"I can't even say seduction without you blushing. Besides, can you imagine the earful we'd get from Effie? I can hear her now… 'Manners!'" I break into a smile at his Effie impression, and look back at him over my shoulder._

 _"Then maybe just… leave a mark."_

 _"Leave a mark?"_

 _"You know, like… on my neck." I trace my finger along my exposed neck down to my collarbone. I watch as Peeta's eyes widen. "So the cameras catch it when we go back out."_

 _"Are you sure?" he asks me, his eyes full of trepidation. I nod my head. Peeta gets up from the desk, walks across the room, and turns the lock on the door. I straighten my back and smooth my dress on my lap as he crosses back toward me. My heart starts hammering rapidly in my chest with each step he takes, his blue eyes lock with mine._

 _I spread my legs and Peeta settles in between them, standing in front of me as I sit on the desk. I can feel his pulse racing as I expose my throat to him. He traces it lightly with his fingers, and my hair stands on end. "Here?" he asks. I nod my head._

 _Peeta lowers his mouth until his lips brush the skin at the nape of my neck. I can feel his hot breath as he exhales. He lifts his mouth to my ear and whispers, "Do you really want me to do this?" I slowly nod my head again, and he draws his lips back down my neck. When he finally latches on, I gasp quietly. He abruptly stops and looks up at me. Our gazes lock, both of us wide-eyed. This is more intimate than I thought it would be. I thought this would be clinical. I have kissed Peeta a thousand times in front of the cameras, but this is the two of us - alone. I remind myself it is still for the audience. I nod my head at him, and his mouth returns to my neck._

 _The feeling is instantaneously overwhelming. I feel heat shoot through my body, tingling from my feet to the tips of my fingers. Peeta rocks forward toward me, and out of instinct I wrap my legs around his waist to force him closer. My hands move to his hair, knotting my fingers in his blonde curls as his tongue began to paint circles on my neck like I am a canvas under one of his paintbrushes. I grab a hold of his tie and wrap it around my hands. I feel his hands run up my back. His mouth keeps sucking and a moment later I feel his teeth gently nip that same spot. My eyes roll into the back of my head._

 _A series of persistent, short knocks rap at the office door. We break away from each other instantly._

 _"Katniss? Peeta? Are you in there?" we hear Effie call out in her clipped Capitol accent._

 _"Just a minute, Effie." Peeta calls back, his voice huskier than I have ever heard it before._

 _"What are you two doing in there? Your guests are waiting!" she persists through the closed door. "And now I'm raising my voice at a party! Imagine!"_

 _Peeta looks flushed. His lips are swollen and his eyes dart around the space. "I need a minute," he states before sitting down on a couch across the room._

 _"We'll be right there, Effie," I call out to our escort. "I just had a headache. Maybe I shouldn't have tried that champagne." I hear her heels clicking as she paces in front of the door. I try sitting next to Peeta, but he shakes his head and pulls away from me. Is he mad at me?_

 _"I just… I need a minute," he says again and gives me a shy, boyish smile._

 _"Okay…" I walk across the room and catch my reflection in a small, gilded mirror on the wall. "Oh!" I say I examine the bruise on my neck. It is dark pink and quickly turning more purple by the second. "I think that will get them gossiping!" I say as I turn around to show Peeta._

 _"Yeah…" Peeta says softly, finally standing and crossing to the thick, oak door. He twists the lock and the frigid air from the hallway floods the room. I hadn't realized how humid the small office had become._

 _"There you are! Let's head… Oh my! Katniss, dear, what's on your neck?!" When Effie takes a look at the love bite darkening on my neck, her eyes bulge out of her head. "You two! This is completely inappropriate. I'll get the prep team. In all my years…"_

 _"It's fine, Effie," I say, taking Peeta's hand. "Let's go back to the party."_

 _"You can't possibly go back with that… that… monstrosity on your neck! It's all anyone will talk about!" she shrieks._

 _Peeta and I exchange knowing smiles. He squeezes my hand and escorts me back the party, with Effie chasing us down the hall waving different powders and compacts she has pulled from who knows where. "A woman is always prepared, Katniss," she calls out, but we swing open the door to the party and greet the next guest._

I listen as Peeta recounts the story to Gale, leaving out the heavy panting and making it sound more mechanical, more how I intended it to be than how it actually was. "I remember smiling at that bruise on her neck all night."

"If you are trying to get me to give you a nightlock pill by pissing me off, it's not going to work," Gale whispers heatedly.

"No, it's just… I remember being so proud of it. It took weeks to fade, and I smiled every time someone noticed it. The prep team kept the bruises covered for the most part, but I just loved every second of it." Peeta gets quiet again, "When I strangled her, I don't remember it, not really. I was so blindingly angry when she came in, I blacked out. But when I saw the bruises on her neck later… I remembered the night in the office, and I felt sick. I'm sick, Gale. I'm a danger. That's who I am now, and the residual parts of my old self are just here to torture me between spells when the Mutt-version takes over. I don't trust myself. I've already proved none of you should trust me. If I'm the Mutt, I'm a threat. If I'm me, I'm a vulnerability for all of you. She'll die protecting me."

I know he's right, but I don't care. When I hear the velcro tear away from Gale's pill pocket, I can't stay silent any longer.

"If either one of you moves, I'll kill you both." I say sternly, continuing to stare at the wall.

"Katniss, please…" I hear Peeta plead.

"Shut up," I say sharply. I sit up and face them, scowling. "Go. To. Sleep."

The two of them exchange glances, and then look back at me. I sit up straighter and prop my back against the wall. "I wanted to sleep tonight, but now I have to babysit you two. I can't trust you not to kill yourself," I motion at Peeta. Then I glare at Gale with a viciousness I had once reserved for the Careers, not my best friend. "And I can't trust you not to help him. Gale, trade places with me."

Gale starts to protest, but I shove him out of the way and take the spot beside Peeta. "I will know if either of you moves. Now stay where you are, and go to sleep."

"Katniss, I don't think you should be so close to him," Gale warns as he stands over my old spot on the floor.

"I trust him more than I trust you right now." Gale shakes his head and lays on his back, carefully keeping his eye on us through his periphery. Years of hunting and stalking prey could not be trained out of him.

"Katniss…" Peeta starts, and I quickly hiss back, "I don't want to hear anything from you either."


	2. Chapter 2

In the morning, we gather around Tigris's television and eat cans of liver pate for breakfast. We catch one of Beetee's updates on the rebellion before the signal is surrendered back to a Capitol reporter, who starkly announces the blocks of the city to be evacuated immediately. It's a little hard to take them seriously through their green corkscrew curls and golden eyelashes, but other than the permanent and semi-permanent alterations to their appearance, the reporter looks kind of normal - no outlandish make-up, no jewelry. This is wartime reporting in a circus. Outside on the street, we can hear the cries of panic from the Capitol refugees, scurrying amongst one another in the streets. I peer through a crack in the curtains. Most look completely lost, wandering aimlessly in their silk pajamas and slippers on their feet. They cling to one another in a throng, fleeing the fighting. It reminds me of the videos I saw of people fleeing the firebombs in 12, and I feel suddenly nauseated and step away from the window.

Tigris heads out onto the street to get a sense of what's going on, and our crew heads back to the basement. I pace back and forth, certainly driving everyone crazy, but one thing keeps looping through my mind.

 _I kill Snow._ I think of Prim's face when her named was reaped. Her duck tail shirt peeking out from her skirt. The sound of my own guttural scream as I volunteered to take her place. _I kill Snow._ I think of Peeta, sitting on the windowsill of our room in the Tribute Center before our Games, trying to cling to some last bit of who he was. _I kill Snow._ I think of me and Rue, of whispering together like girls at a slumber party, of teasing and giggling and ultimately, of singing her to sleep. _I kill Snow._ I think of my father, who never would have been in the mines if it weren't for the fate of where he was born. _I kill Snow._ I think of Haymitch, drinking away a life too painful to remember and too important to forget. _I kill Snow._ I think of Peeta, who he was - a painter, a friend, a baker; and who he is now. I think of what Snow took away. His father is dead. His mother is dead. His brothers are dead. _I kill Snow. I kill Snow._ _I kill Snow._

Tigris finally returns in the late afternoon, with hot food and information. As we dig in, she describes the City Circle, packed with refugees trying to find shelter for the night. Peacekeepers are going door to door, placing them in homes - voluntarily or not.

"Tigris, that could be you," says Peeta. I realize he's right. That even this narrow hallway of a shop could be appropriated as numbers swell. The television anchor reports of hysteria in the crowds as the temperature plummets at sunset. They show the picture of a young boy who had been beaten to death after being mistaken for Peeta. His picture looks nothing like Peeta, save for his curly blonde hair.

"We will need to go first thing in the morning," I say. "We don't know how much time we have." The others nod in agreement.

The reporter finally states that the President's Mansion will be open to refugees in the City. My jaw drops in shock, but I close it again when I realize my mouth is gaping.

"Do you think he'd really do that? Show compassion to his people?" I ask.

"I think he has to now, at least for the cameras," Cressida replies, sitting back in her seat. I look at Gale and I can feel his mind clicking, his trapper's instinct taking over.

"It's not compassion. He's using them as a human shield. He knows the rebellion will be in the City Circle by morning. They are nothing more than a sympathetic barrier between himself and the rebels. If anything, he'll cause more collateral damage. If he wanted to protect them, he'd shut down the pods north of the city and move there. If anything, he's just stuffing the Mansion full of innocent people hoping Coin won't have the guts to take it out." Gale's assessment rings truth through the room.

"He knows that won't work. He knows what they did to The Nut." I reply back. Thinking about that day still makes my stomach churn. It was the day I realized I didn't know who Gale was anymore.

"What _we_ did at The Nut," Gale says in response, meeting my eyes dead on. We retreat to the basement for the evening, each piling into our individual fur cocoons. After cuffing him to the stairs, I take the spot next to Peeta. The night is restless. Pollux is still grieving for his brother, and quietly cries himself to sleep. Cressida can't seem to warm up, and she keeps piling more and more furs until I'm certain she'll suffocate. The only one sleeping is Gale, who seems to finally have settled realizing I'm not going to bolt tonight. In the dark I look over at Peeta. He turns his head to me and our eyes lock. I don't think I've looked him in the eye this long since he came back. I think about last night, his conversation with Gale.

"You remembered about the office?" I whisper, with a small smile in the corner of my mouth.

"Yeah, I remember," he says back, his face neutral. He's quiet for a bit, and I can tell something doesn't make sense to him.

"You can just ask - real or not real?" I say.

"It's just really confusing. It seemed like it was more than just for show."

"It wasn't supposed to be more than that, but I think we both… I know I felt something." I'm more breathing than speaking at this point, but I know he hears me.

"But nothing like that happened again? It just felt so intimate, and I have these memories of you with me on the train."

"I was with you on the train, but nothing happened, Peeta. We just slept." I stop and think a moment before I confess, "I can't really sleep without you."

"I don't sleep either." He breaks my gaze and stares toward the far wall. "I haven't slept in months, not really."

I pull myself up and Peeta immediately stiffens, his body defensive. I feel my chest tighten in response, and I reach into my pocket for the tiny keys that unlock his handcuffs. I feel his body pull away from me as I lean over and unlock the handcuffs from the railing of the stairs.

"Katniss, I don't think this is a good idea."

"I do," I say back. I take his hands in mine and unclasp the cuffs from each wrist. The bandages I wrapped around the raw flesh of his wrist earlier that night are a stark white in comparison to the rest of the basement. Peeta rubs each of them as he rolls his hands and tries to get the blood flowing into his fingers again.

"Come here," I say, and lift my fur blanket up for him. Peeta just stares at me as the warm air billows away from my body. "You must be freezing. Your body isn't even really covered, Peeta." He assesses me again. "It's like on the train. It's just you and me and sleep."

Finally, Peeta crawls under the blanket. At first he lays next to me, his body straight and rigid. We don't touch. I breathe under the covers - we begin to warm and his body begins to relax into mine. I lay there, and I wait. I wait for him to come back to me. Both our eyes are wide open. I roll onto my side facing him. He looks down at me, and for a split second, I see the storm in his eyes settle. He lifts the arm closest to me, and I pull myself into him. I rest my head on his chest and listen as his heart slows into that steady, strong pulse that has sung me to sleep so many times before. His hand instinctively begins unweaving my braid, like he used to, and tears threaten to run down my cheeks.

Peeta feels the change in my body and he whispers, "Is this not okay? I shouldn't have touched your hair."

"It's more than okay, Peeta. It's like old times. It's what you used to do."

"And then we'd just sleep?"

"Yeah. And then we'd just sleep." And we do. We both do for the first time in months.

The morning creeps in sooner than I'd hoped. Yesterday I wanted nothing more than this day to come, but lying here, I just want more time. I lost the last few months to being the Mockingjay, and for just one more moment I want to be Katniss. I can't actually tell what time it is - there is no light in the basement - but Tigris said she'd come get us around dawn. I stretch my body a little, and Peeta pulls me in closer. I breathe into his chest and wrap my arms around him.

"Maybe we should put you back," I whisper. "So we don't have mass panic when no one knows where you are."

"Yeah," he agrees and he begins working his way out from our cocoon. "It's so cold out here," he whispers back at me as he works the cuffs back onto his wrists. I latch him in, and then cover him with some furs from our pile.

"I think we have another hour, you should try to sleep some more if you can."

"I don't think I will, but honestly, this is the most rested I've felt in a long time. I feel like my head is clearer." He looks at me with a loving expression that so reminds me of old Peeta that a lump forms in my throat. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah," I smile back at him. "I actually slept."

"No nightmares?"

"You remember my nightmares?" I ask.

"I do. Part way through the night you stirred, and I instinctively prepared myself to comfort you, but you just stayed asleep. It felt so familiar, and then I remembered. I remembered talking to you, stroking your hair, rubbing your back. I remember you curling up in my lap."

"Yeah, that sounds about right."

"Did I get them too? I don't remember that in reverse," he asks.

"You did, but you never woke me up. You once told me your nightmares were always about losing me, and when you woke up with me next to you, that was all you needed," I reply.

"My nightmares are still about losing you."

We look at each other for a moment. I reach out and touch his face. He flinches, just for a second, but then he relaxes into my hand. He twists his head so his lips are on my palm, and he breathes into my hand, "I'm so sorry, Katniss."

I remember why I'm here. In this basement. _I kill Snow._

"We should get ready," I say.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, we prepare to leave Tigris's shop. The plan is straightforward. Tigris will camouflage us in Capitol garb and make-up, and we will slip into the crowd of refugees. Pollux will take the lead and act as a guide once again, just as he did in the sewers. Peeta, Gale and I will follow. Cressida will bring up the rear and watch our backs for as long as she can manage. Once inside the President's mansion, Peeta will lead us to Snow's office and I will kill him. It's practically guaranteed to go wrong at some point, but we have to try. We didn't lose Finnick and Boggs and everyone else just to give up. I look in the mirror and hardly recognize myself under the cloaks and paint on my face.

 _"Never underestimate the power of a brilliant stylist," says Peeta._ "You don't even look like you, Katniss." _It's hard to tell, but I think Tigris might actually blush under her stripes._ My heart aches for a moment - for Cinna, for Portia. For the fire they lit in my heart and hearts around the nation when they set Peeta and me ablaze that night. I am going to do this. Today either Snow dies or I do.

Pollux pulls me into his arms and squeezes me tight. His embrace is full of emotions words could not capture and we hold each other for a moment in silence. He kisses my cheek and then slips out into the street.

"Any last advice?" I turn and ask Peeta. I mean about the mansion, the route, the plan, but instead he just smirks at me.

"Stay alive."

I squeeze his hand in mine. I notice Gale shifting his weight from one foot to another, but I just lock eyes with Peeta. "One last time. One more Arena. One more time. You and me."

"Together?" he asks.

"Together," I reply.

I look at my hunting partner and my district partner and know that if I had to do this again, I wouldn't choose anyone else to be by my side. Gale, who can predict my every move and wordlessly knows exactly what I need him to do; and Peeta, whose strength and sureness has pulled me through my darkest moments.

I pull Gale into my arms and he whispers in my ear, "I got you, Catnip."

It's now or never.

"Let's go," I say, and we duck out of Tigris's shop and into the street. The sharpness of the crisp, cold air bites my cheeks. Peeta and Gale flank me on either side as we join the mass of refugees pulling their way toward the City Circle. The sky is overcast and the grayness that envelops the city makes everyone look the same. I try to keep my face down to the ground, but I can't help but take in the people around me.

I spent years nurturing resentment toward the people of the Capitol. It was by no means the hate that burns in Gale, but I couldn't help but feel animosity toward those that cheer on the deaths of children in the Hunger Games. Generation after generation of Capitol citizens imparted prejudice to their children. There is no difference between a Capitol child and a child starving in the Seam other than the luck of where they were born. They are taught the Games are fair and necessary - and that the Tributes aren't like them. The people in the Districts are sub-human. Seeing their desperation now makes me wonder if they've finally realized, whether born in the Capitol or 12, we all bleed the same. Their children don't deserve to die on this street any more than ours deserved to be reaped.

I shake the thought from my mind. I need to focus. I kill Snow.

We turn a corner and see Peacekeepers dispersed throughout the crowd, barking orders and directing the mob. Snowflakes begin to spit from the sky and cling to the hair of a little girl wearing a yellow coat and being carried by her mother. Our eyes meet and I worry the girl, barely older than a toddler, might recognize me. I pull my hood further down my face and feel Peeta squeeze my left hand. Suddenly bullets begin to rip through the crowd. My hands shoot instinctively to cover my head.

"Who is it?" I look to Gale, who is scanning the rooftops. "Can you see?" My voice is barely audible over the pop of gunfire. I look ahead to see the Peacekeepers raise their weapons and fire back, confirming my suspicions. The rebels have entered the square. Gale grabs my arm and pulls me to an alley. Peeta's hands press into my back, pushing me forward. I look to my right and see the girl in the lemon yellow coat, covered in blood and screaming at her motionless mother lying on the ground. I reach out for her and Gale pulls me forward.

"We have to go back!" I scream.

"You need to focus!" Gale asserts. I know he's right, but I can't help but think how the yellow of her dress reminds me of a duckling, my duckling, my little duck. I inhale slowly. She is safe in 13. Focus.

"You're right. We've got to get to Snow," I say. I'm not sure how we will retain our cover, but when we jump into the next intersection it is clear it doesn't matter. No one is looking at faces anymore. The rebels have overwhelmed the street and are in active combat with the troops of Peacekeepers trying to batter them back. _Caught in the crossfire are refugees, unarmed, disoriented, many wounded._

Suddenly, a pod opens up in front of us and a gush of steam consumes everyone in its path. It doesn't discriminate between rebel, Peacekeeper, or refugee - everyone in the radius of the cloud is boiled away. Chaos ensues. Everyone is my enemy - everyone except the men flanking my sides.

"This way!" Peeta screams, grabbing my wrist and pulling me forward. Gale takes up the rear and shoots erratically back toward the crowd with a gun he confiscated from a dead Peacekeeper. An arrow would be too risky. An arrow would announce I'm here. I keep moving forward. We hurdle and step over dead people, wounded people, screaming people everywhere we look. We reach the next block in time to see it light up with a blinding purple glow. We instinctively fall back, not knowing what comes of the glow and in no hurry to find out. Peeta diverts us down a side street, still pushing toward the mansion. "GET DOWN!" Peeta screams as a squadron of Peacekeepers make their way toward us. He throws me to the ground and plasters his body on top of mine. I feel Gale's weight top our piggy pile, and the Peacekeepers ignore us and charge forward, before evaporating in the purple glow.

We pull into the next block and naively think maybe we caught a break. The street seems to be mostly refugees with few soldiers mulling about. Suddenly, I hear a crack like the whip that sliced Gale's back, only magnified so it echoes throughout the square. My feet begin to tilt forward and I realize the street is folding in onto itself. The three of us pull an immediate about face, reaching for the windowsills of the buildings that line the street while we feel our feet slipping beneath us. I grab a marble sill and feel Peeta pull up next to me. I'm grateful now that Coin forced him into training, as most of his muscular form has returned. Gale, on the other hand, is slipping away from us.

"Gale!" I scream as a vile stench invades my nostrils from the pit below. I look over my shoulder and see him slipping, trying to scale the tiled street and finding no purchase on the slick, bloody tiles. Behind Gale is a deep crevice, maybe 50 feet down, lined with shadowy black creatures. I reach out my bow and he grabs it. Peeta frees a hand and joins in the struggle as Gale climbs my bow to the street. He pulls himself up and out of danger and turns to offer me a hand when he is flooded with Peacekeepers. He elbows one in the face and blood spurts from under his helmet. He stomps the foot of another and hurls a third off his back. Suddenly a swarm of Peacekeepers emerge and he is quickly overwhelmed. I watch in horror as they load him into the back of a van. I can see him reaching for one of his explosive arrows, which he is certain to detonate and take out himself and half the block along with him, when a Peacekeeper smashes the butt of a gun into his temple and he loses consciousness.

Peeta and I hang over the edge, hoping not to be seen. Our eyes meet and I silently sob out Gale's name. The van pulls away and Peeta pulls himself up onto the ledge and then effortlessly pulls me out beside him. I try not to focus on Gale, but I can't do this again. I can't lose another person I love to Snow's chamber of horrors. I kill Snow.

"I know where we are. I recognized those creatures. They were in the underground passageway that connects the mansion to the Tribute Center. That's how they moved me back and forth from my cell for my interviews with Caesar," Peeta exclaims. The thought of going back underground brings my mind to Finnick and I start to shake. "It's just another Arena, Katniss. You and I can take an Arena, if we are together." I shake my head feverishly, my jaw chattering and shivers running uncontrollably up and down my spine. "I'm going down there," he says, "and I don't want to do this alone." I meet his gaze. "Stay with me, Katniss."

My body stops shaking. "Always." We move up a block, past the pit of shadowy creatures, and Peeta lifts a pothole cover. He climbs down blindly, I follow. We drop into a tunnel lined with electric torches on the marble walls. It all seems too pristine and elegant for a secret passage. "They even flee in style," I say to Peeta and he grins weakly. The tunnel is narrow, but we manage to fit through side-by-side. I can tell Peeta is fighting with himself. The tunnel is familiar, and it's bringing back too many memories, both shiny and real, of his time in captivity. We hear a sound, an awful lot like my voice, echoing in the distance. A jabberjay? In a tunnel? That can't be right.

It's my voice alright, but this Muttation is directed at Peeta. They are trying to trigger him while he's down here with me. They are trying to set him off. He looks back at me desperately, his pupils dilating and retracting constantly. That's when I see him. Snow comes around the corner of the tunnel, which opens into a larger space. He is surrounded by a mix of Peacekeepers and Avoxes, armed and huddled around him. Perched on his shoulder sits a jabberjay, cackling in my voice - spitting out hateful vicissitudes and mimicking my inflection perfectly.

Peeta drops to his knees and Snow laughs. He has the last laugh. He will watch me die. He'll watch Peeta do it. I drop down beside him. "Peeta, look at me," I coo into his ear. His body convulsing, but his eyes lock on mine.

"It's not helping. You don't even look like you."

"I know, this makeup is silly." Something clicks in my head. "Peeta, I need you to do something for me." He stares me, straining, fighting against the Mutt that is trying to burst free.

"I'll try," he chokes out, grunting as the convulsions overtake him.

"I need you to let go."

"What?" he cries out, looking at me again.

"I need you to let go, Peeta. Go Mutt for me. Let go." His eyes meet mine, but they aren't mine. He can't latch onto me and hold himself here. My eyes aren't gray. Tigris gave me contacts and the irises blinking back at him are bright green. "Let go," I whisper and his pupils disappear. His eyes turn into a stormy blackish blue and the shaking stops. His muscle bulge and he hears my voice echoing the tunnels behind him. He disregards me entirely, a stranger, and turns to face President Snow.

Peeta's body bulks considerably, like a dog bristling. The Peacekeepers take a step back. They know they can't fire their guns in here - the bullets would ricochet uncontrollably. I see fear take over their faces as Peeta lets out a scream that reverberates so infinitely my ears begin to ring. He charges toward the sounds of my voice, toward Snow.

The dozen or so Peacekeepers form a V around Peeta, surrounding him. It's as if he feels no pain. The first takes a step forward and he slams his false leg into the back of their knee, shattering their femur. From there it is all out chaos. I pull an arrow but I can't shoot the Peacekeepers without risking Peeta. He grabs another and snaps his neck as if he were as thin as a wishbone. I think of Cato. How bloodthirsty he was. His temper. I see Peeta with two Peacekeepers on his back and he heaves upward, sending them flying to the ground. The Avoxes join Peeta, but are quickly disabled by the Peacekeepers. A few Peacekeepers manage to get in blows with their batons or fists that would flatten a normal man, but Peeta is no normal man. He is a Mutt who has been enduring pain since boyhood. He can take a blow, and another, and another. One by one, until he is surrounded by a dozen bodies on the floor, Mutt Peeta eviscerates the men until they each lay before him, broken and maimed. I can tell my Peeta is fighting his way back, and he drops to his knees and cries out to the jabberjay, still screeching on Snow's shoulder.

I take my arrow and shoot the jabberjay from its perch. The viciousness of my fake voice ceases as Peeta collapses to the floor, a puddle of exhaustion and pain overwhelming him. I load another arrow and point it directly at Snow's heart.

"I think we've both known for a long time it would end like this," his voice slips out through his serpentine, puffy lips. "Either you in my sight, or me in yours."

"Shut up!" I scream at him, drawing my arrow back further. I hear Peeta moaning on the ground next to me.

"You can end things now, Miss Everdeen. You can send an arrow through my body, the same way you've killed so many others. The way you killed Marvel. He was only 15, you know. Big for his age. The way you killed Cato. The way you killed Gloss. The way you killed that poor woman, hiding in her home. She wasn't even a real threat to you, but you didn't hesitate, did you? Not my Mockingjay." Bile rises from my stomach and burns the back of my throat. "I made you what you are. I made you who you were always meant to be. You're not some poor, helpless girl from the Seam. You aren't a martyr. You aren't a leader, like Coin fears. You, my dear, are a killer. Now, show me what you are made of."

I can't figure it out. Why is he baiting me? Why is he trying to get me to put an end to this? I want to. I want to send my arrow flying and plunge it into his ruthless, unfeeling heart, but not like this. Not with him practically begging for it.

"I'm still surveilling the City, you know. I saw her, right before I came down here. The _other_ Miss Everdeen." A slippery smile spread its way across his face. Prim? He saw Prim? "She was always meant to be a healer, the same way you were always meant to be a murderer. She was dressed in a white medic's uniform, pushing her way into the square."

Coin wouldn't do that. Children are too precious to 13. Coin wouldn't send a child into combat… unless… "Prim." Her name escapes my mouth like water being pulled down a drain. "She's up there?"

"Last I saw, she was about to enter the square. She was helping the refugees," I pull back my arrow and let it fly. It punctures through Snow's hand and hammers it to the wall behind him. He screams out in pain and reaches for his hand. I shoot another and pin his jacket. Another pierces through his foot and nails it to the floor. I reach him and pull his belt from around his waist. I wrap it around his neck and tie his throat to a pipe.

"I'm not done with you," I practically spit in his face. "I have a list of my own. Cinna. Finnick. Mags. Rue. Boggs." I stare him down as I throw out the names of Tributes, rebels, children, that he is responsible for. I start walking backwards away from him, and the stench that filled my nose earlier invades my senses once more. I'm getting closer. "Wiress. Maysilee. Madge. All the Mellarks." Peeta has finally risen to his feet and senses what I am about to do. He makes his way to the exit, his hand on a rung of the ladder. When I reach the latch to the door that holds back the shadowy Mutts, I take one last look at Snow. He stands there, surrounded by the bodies of fallen Peacekeepers and Avoxes. Blood drips from his hand and pools at his foot. He stares me down. He smiles.

"My father," I say, and I unlatch the door. The swarm of Mutts rush out, smelling his blood and charging for Snow. Peeta sweeps an arm behind my waist and pulls me up the ladder with him. I hear Snow scream just before we reach the surface.

Cold invades my nostrils as we rejoin the fight on the street. The rebels don't know Snow is finished and neither do the Peacekeepers. They are locked in deadly battle. We rush toward the City Circle where I think Prim must be. We reach the square in time to see a group of children huddled at the gates of the mansion. Parents are lifting their kids in the air, pushing them forward to the closest thing they've seen to salvation since the fighting reached the city streets. Children from toddler to teenager cling to one another, crying and screaming for their parents, still locked on the other side of the gate.

Suddenly, a Capitol hovercraft appears overhead, raining silver parachutes down on the throng of children. Even in the chaos, the children know what silver parachutes contain. Food. Medicine. Their tiny hands reach up, eager with hunger and want. Just as the parachutes descend upon them, we all feel a moment of respite. Parents watch as their children struggle with the strings, their fingers frozen and sloppy. And then it happens.

Half the parachutes explode and the children are engulfed in flames. Those that didn't immediately perish are screaming and clutching at severed limbs, rolling in agony to stop the fire. That's when I see her. A blonde braid draped across a white uniform with a red cross on her back. Rebel medics. They push through to children, shouting at one another and tossing supplies and bandages as they try desperately to heal the wounded and comfort the helpless. I see Prim as she strokes the face of a small girl, pulling pieces of shrapnel from her arm. I scream her name and for a second, Prim looks up at me. I see my sister's face and she smiles back at me. I run toward her. Then the rest of the parachutes explode.

I feel the weight of Peeta's body hit me and we are both on fire. Real or not real? He is on top of me, taking the brunt of the explosion. I see him lying there while the two of us are aflame. It seems fitting, that we started on fire, and that we should end this way. My ears are ringing, my sister is gone. I already know that. I reach out and take Peeta's hand in my own. The layers of cloaks are quickly engulfed and we just look at one another. We are both Mutts now. _A fire Mutt only knows one thing: agony._ We are in and out of the reality of our flesh burning. I can feel Peeta trying to beat the flames away from my body, rolling on top of his own. _I am Cinna's bird, ignited._


	4. Chapter 4

_I am trapped for days, years, centuries maybe. Dead, but not allowed to die. Alive, but as good as dead. Foam. I am really floating on foam. I can feel it beneath the tips of my fingers, cradling parts of my naked body. There's much pain but there's also something like reality. The sandpaper of my throat. The burn medicine. The sound of my mother's voice. In the dazzling white Capitol hospital, the doctors work their magic on me. Draping my rawness in sheets of skin. Coaxing the cells into thinking they are my own._

 _I hear over and over again how lucky I am._ "If Peeta hadn't been there, I think she would have burned alive," I hear one nurse say. I try to concentrate for a minute, to think of Peeta, but my mind inevitably drifts to my sister. To watching her incinerate. There one minute, gone the next. All I ever wanted was to keep her safe. All I ever wanted was Prim. I let the morphling pull me back under.

Other visitors start to arrive. The morphling opens the door to dead and alive alike. I see Haymitch, drunk and heartbroken, reaching to hold my hand but afraid to touch me. Cinna, sewing my skin together. Peeta, the day of our first reaping. He looks so young now, just a boy. My father sings to me, Delly gossips, my mother just sits in silence and avoids looking at me. Slowly, I am more able to grip reality. It's not a place where I want to be. I am in hell. A world without my beautiful sister. We won the war, but what was it all for if she can't become a doctor one day? Get married? Have the babies she practiced for with a tattered doll I got her at the Hob? There is no point to being here. My voice is burned like my body, and I remain silent.

My silence puzzles the doctors. Physically, I should be able to speak, but I don't. I stare at the ceiling and curse these stupid people for keeping me alive like this. I curse Peeta. He should have just let me go. Why can't he ever just let me go? Dr. Aurelius, the head doctor, decides my muteness is mental, not physical. I am a self-imposed Avox. I think of the Avoxes that littered the floor while Snow stood nailed to the wall, the ones the Peacekeepers killed while fighting Mutt Peeta. I can be an Avox.

People bring me updates on Panem, post war. The Capitol fell the day the parachutes went off. No one can find Snow, he is presumed escaped. I know better. I know about the tunnel under his mansion, his marble tomb. It is the only thing that brings me solace. Cressida and Pollux are alive and out in the Districts, covering the aftermath. Gale was released from the hospital weeks ago. He suffered two bullet wounds and a serious concussion, but he is expected to make a full recovery. They offered to do a full body polish and wipe away the whipping scars from his back, but he refused. He is conspicuously absent from my room, and doesn't come see me. Peeta is still in the burn unit. He has yet to regain consciousness, but the doctors assure me that's due to the medically-induced coma they've put his body in while he heals.

Eventually, I'm released from the hospital and given a room in the President's mansion. I don't spend any time there, other than to sleep. I mostly wander the halls of hospital, find my way to Peeta's room, sleep in the chair next to his bed. I vacillate in my silence. I grieve. I speak to no one, and eventually the hospital staff stops speaking to me. I don't touch Peeta, I just stare at him. I wait for him to come back to me. He always comes back to me.

Weeks later, the staff communicates to me that they are going to wake Peeta up. They warn me he will disoriented, that he won't know where or when or maybe even who he is. They explain his skin will feel foreign and it may confuse him that his body doesn't look how he remembers. I know what they mean. I am not who I remember either. When they push the drugs into his IV to bring him to, they don't work right away. They assure me it's normal, but I can't wipe the panic from my eyes. When he finally stirs it's not as dramatic as I thought it would be. He's not suddenly awake, screaming and asking questions. His eyelids droop and he looks at me. He slowly lifts the blanket up and, despite the protests of the hospital staff, I crawl in beside him. I put my head on his chest. It's gaunt, weak, the muscles sinewy and absent; but when I hear his pulse beating steadily under my ear, I doze off.

We stay that way for days. We don't sleep or eat or move really, but we just stay. It's the only thing we both know how to do anymore. Eventually, Peeta whispers to me, "I'm so sorry, Katniss." I know he means Prim, he means the war, he means the Reaping. He means all of it. I cry for the first time since I lost my sister. I cry for hours, snot dripping down my chin. He uses a damp washcloth to wipe my face. The doctors close the door to his room, shut off the lights, and let us grieve in peace. In the dark, hours later, I whisper back to him, "Me too."

Eventually Peeta is discharged, and we both move back to the President's mansion. We sit in one of our rooms, I'm not even sure whose, in silence, when Haymitch bursts through the door. "They found Effie!"

We had all assumed Effie was killed around the time Peeta's prep team was executed. Nothing aired on TV, but we were certain she wouldn't be allowed to live. Haymitch is running down the hallway, and we are chasing behind him.

"Where?" I cry out as we turn a corner.

He stops for just a moment and looks at me. "The Mockingjay speaks."

"Shut up, Haymitch. Where was she?" I scowl.

"They found a tunnel under the mansion. It connects the mansion and the Tribute Center. There is a lot of carnage down there. It took them days to eradicate a pack of Mutts that had gotten loose. But at the end of the tunnels was a row of cells, holding Effie and some other Capitol citizens that were too strategic to kill right away. Snow would have killed her eventually. For show. But we lucked out that we took the Capitol before he could. Come on, let's go." He takes off running again, panting and heaving until we get to a car that hurries us back to the hospital. We are all familiar with the layout now, have memorized where the floors and units are. We fly into Intensive Care and Haymitch bellows, "WHERE IS SHE?"

"You don't have to scream, Mr. Abernathy. Manners!" We hear a weak voice chastise him from our left. We look over to see a frail woman lying in a bed. She is tiny, hooked up to IVs and machines, beeping and wheezing as they pump fluids and medicines into her demure body. She's unrecognizable without her wigs and make-up. I'm not sure I would have known it was her, had she not clicked, "Tisk tisk, children, staring is quite rude!"

I collapse and throw myself on top of her feet. They are cold and I start rubbing them, crying. It's like seeing a ghost. I was sure Effie was dead. I was sure of it. That's when I hear Haymitch sobbing. Haymitch never cries. He's never once broken down in front of me - not during the Games, not during the Tour, not when we lost Peeta, not during the War. He may be drunk and angry, but he is stalwart with his tears. He is kissing her face all over, her cheeks, her forehead, her ears, her mouth. Her mouth! Peeta and I look at each other in shock. How did we miss this? Effie is crying too, and the two start whispering intimacies between kisses. Peeta and I slowly step out of the room and close the door. Our eyes meet, and for the first time since the end of the war, laughter erupts. We aren't teasing - the laughter is joyous. I'm happy. We are happy. I forgot that I could feel this. Tears pour from our eyes as rolls of laughter overtake our weak bodies. We drop to the floor and earn some sideways glances from the medical team, but we don't care. Effie is alive. And it appears, so too is Haymitch.


	5. Chapter 5

The next day, a messenger arrives at the hospital to tell Peeta, Haymitch and me that we have been summoned to a meeting at the President's mansion with Coin. None of us want to leave Effie's side, but all surviving Victors are required. We make our way back to the mansion in silence.

We enter a plain room with a round table at its center. Johanna, Beetee, Annie, and Enobaria are all sitting around it. I had guessed Commander Lyme never made it out of 2, but I am shocked at how few of us there are. I think back to the Quarter Quell reapings, the pools of victors in 1, 2, and 4. Even Johanna was one of many in 9. How are they all gone now?

From behind me, Coin speaks, "The Victors were hunted after the Arena blew up. The Capitol killed those they thought may have an allegiance to the rebellion, and the rebels killed those they suspected were aligned with the Capitol. I suppose there could be more of you in hiding somewhere, but so far I've been unable to locate any. This is our quorum."

Peeta, Haymitch, and I take our seats with a bit of trepidation. I smile at Annie, who is rocking back and forth in her seat and suckling her hair like a child. She doesn't smile back. I take her hand in mine and squeeze it tight.

"I've asked you here to settle a debate. As you are aware, we've been unable to locate President Snow. Most of us assume he was killed during the fall of the Capitol, but others worry he's escaped. As such, there is a feeling of unease among the people of Panem. Hundreds of his accomplices have been tried and await their deaths, but there is a concern that this will not provide the closure that killing Snow may have. As such, we have devised a secondary course of action that we believe is fair, and will provide some finality to the citizens of our new nation. A final Hunger Games, with the tributes being reaped from the children of the Capitol. While Snow is gone, we have acquired his granddaughter. The bloodline shall be purged."

The blood in my veins begins to boil. Hasn't there been enough death?

"They already saw their children slaughtered," I say with a burning deliberation.

"How's that?" Coin asks.

"Are you kidding me?" I glare at her. Coin shakes her head at me, clearly oblivious. "Their children were just blown up! In front of their eyes! Dozens of them!" I scream at her. Peeta takes my hand.

"Haven't we seen enough death? Enough children in this world extinguished?" Peeta asks.

"Those children were murdered by Snow, and it was hardly the same display that another Hunger Games would draw." Coin retorts.

"Display?!" I'm out of my seat now, and both Haymitch and Peeta are up, trying to sit me back down. "DISPLAY?! My sister died in that explosion!"

"Snow's explosion, Katniss. He took Prim away from all of us. That girl was in the hearts of each citizen of Panem. And we deserve vengeance." Coin states calmly.

"You? You think you deserve vengeance for Prim?! You didn't even know her!" I'm fuming now, rattled and angry. How dare she use my sister as an excuse for another Hunger Games! My sister, who couldn't bear to hunt with me for fear she'd hurt some innocent animal. Who abhorred violence and death so much that she dedicated her tragically short life to healing.

"Are there any other opinions?" Coin states, opening the matter to the other Victors.

My mind starts churning.

"Was this Plutarch's idea?" asks Haymitch.

"It was mine," says Coin. "It seems to balance the need for vengeance with the least loss of life."

I tune them out. My mind is racing. Coin was so quick point out Snow's guilt in the bombing that killed my sister, but Snow was already dead by that point. Coin doesn't know that, but I do. Perhaps he ordered the attack in advance, but… the delayed explosion. My thoughts double back to the day in Special Weaponry, with Gale and Beetee. Gale is describing a trap that plays on human sympathies. They are reviewing designs… the first bomb kills the victims, the second kills the rescuers. I remember Gale's words: _"Beetee and I have been following the same rulebook as President Snow."_ I start to choke on the vomit rising in my throat.

"Katniss, are you okay?" Peeta asks.

Gale's absence. He's already put two and two together. He hasn't been around me because he can't. He knows Prim's blood is on his hands. His hands, Coin's hands. My eyes dart to Beetee, who is calculating the pros and cons of a Capitol Hunger Games in his complex mind. I remember Gale referring to the refugees as "collateral damage," as if they weren't even people anymore but a necessary sacrifice to the cause. I remember back to 13, his special communicuff. His loyalty to Coin, him defending that woman. In the end, I wasn't part of Snow's game. I was part of hers.

"Let's take a vote." Coin declares, hearing no further discussion on the matter. I have no idea what has been said.

"No!" bursts out Peeta. "I vote no! What was the point of the War? We can't have another Hunger Games!"

"Why not?" Johanna retorts. "Seems like a fair shake up to me. I vote yes." Peeta pleads at her with his eyes. I cannot understand the bond shared between the captured Victors, but I know they trust each other in ways I can only begin to imagine. Johanna intentionally avoids his stare.

"As do I," says Enobaria, but I can tell she is only seeking to nurse a need for violence that makes me uneasy even sharing this room with her. Peeta is at a loss and is pulling his hair with his hands.

"I vote no," Annie says quietly. "And so would Finnick, if he were here."

"Well he's not, and we cannot rely on supposition as to where his feelings would lie. Finnick doesn't get a vote in absentia." Coin replies with indifference. I can feel my hatred for Coin seeping from my pores. I can smell it on my skin.

"No," says Beetee. "We cannot set precedent like this for our new democracy. We cannot use the lives of innocents to atone for the sins of the guilty."

"That leaves Haymitch and Katniss," Coin states, fixing her eyes on us. Nothing has changed. Nothing will ever change with this woman at the helm.

"I vote yes." I hear Peeta gasp next to me, and withdraw. He is gripping his pants and rocking in his chair. "For Prim." I add.

"I need to be excused," Peeta says so quietly, only I hear him.

"Haymitch?" Coin says.

"I NEED TO BE EXCUSED!" Peeta yells, tossing his chair back against the wall. It shatters, and Annie grabs his hand and leads him out of the room. I'll explain later. He'll understand.

Once Peeta has left and the room is calm, Haymitch casts his vote with me. He is calculating like I am. He knows something is working in my brain.

"That settles it, then. The Reaping shall be held in 4 days. I expect you all to be present." Coin states before she exits the room.

"You wanna tell me what's going on?" Haymitch whispers, and I meet his stare, then walk out of the room.

That night I go to Peeta's room but his door is locked. I rap my knuckles on the wood entreating him for entry, but he ignores me. I hear his shower turn on. He has no intention of a visitor tonight. Instead I go to the hospital to sit with Effie. Her recovery has been quick-paced, and she is sitting up arguing with Haymitch. I hover outside their door and listen.

"Well tell Coin I'm not interested!" she quips. "Your name is the last I shall ever pull from a reaping bowl."

"I know it doesn't make sense, Effie, but I need you to do this. Please, just trust me." Haymitch tries appealing to her ego. "No one can do this but you."

"You mean no one is left to do this but me. I know all the escorts are dead." They are quiet for a minute.

"The girl's got a plan. She's not going to share it with me, but she needs us. This one last time." Haymitch whispers.

"Alright," she finally concedes. "But something must be done about my wardrobe. This hospital gown is not suitable for public consumption."

"I'll get you the best stylists left in the Capitol, princess." Haymitch knows she's on board.

"Hi," I say as I finally slip into her room. Effie's face lights up, and she crushes my fingers as she grips my hand. I ask if I can borrow Haymitch, and we take a walk out into the night.

"I know where Snow is." I confess.

"What?! Where?" Haymitch spits out, astounded.

"His body is part of the carnage in the secret tunnel. The one pinned to the wall with my arrows."

Haymitch stops dead in his tracks. "Then she knows. Coin must know he's dead, but why isn't she telling us?"

"I think she wants these Games to happen. She can't see past her own need for retribution. She wants the people of the Capitol to suffer, and she wants every rebel cheering it on. She wants to look like the hero. She'll reveal he's dead when the Games are done."

Haymitch nods his head in agreement. "But she knows you know. If your arrows were down there, she knows you are keeping this to yourself."

"I have no doubt she still wants to have me killed. It's why she sent Peeta into the Star Squad. She needs me to endorse the Games. She needs me to be the Mockingjay one last time, and then she'll get rid of me." I say. We stop walking and I look up at my mentor. "She killed my sister, Haymitch." He starts to put the pieces together as I impart my suspicions.

"Coin kicked me out of Command right before the explosion. Made up some excuse about clearance and had me escorted out. The next thing I knew, I saw everyone go up in flames on the rebel broadcast. How did she know to film that exact area of the square?" We both know how.

I tell Haymitch my plan, and he squeezes my shoulder. "I'll be there with you, girl on fire."

The next four days are painfully slow. Peeta hasn't left his quarters. I spend an entire afternoon camped outside his room, talking to him through the door. At one point, I feel him settle on the other side. I can tell he is there by the way the light under his door shifts, but he never replies. He just sits for a few minutes, and then retreats back to his room. I wallow. I find dark spaces, I hide in closets. I mourn my sister. I start to lose myself a little, but I remind myself I have a job to do. The War isn't over, not yet.

The day of the Reaping, Effie comes to my room with my Mockingjay suit. She is dressed like herself, a little worse for wear, but wig in place. I preferred her chocolate locks, but I smile when I see her back to her old self. "It's going to be a big, big, big day!" she exclaims as she lets a prep team into the room. They aren't my prep team, but they'll do. When we finish, we make our way down to the City Circle.

In front of the mansion, a giant stage has been erected. The victors stand on either side of the reaping bowl. Effie takes her place at the center, and I pretend not to notice her hands shake. I take my place next to Peeta, and he ignores me. Peeta is dressed in a jumpsuit not unlike that from the Quarter Quell. Johanna is in all black and props an axe on her shoulder. Her hair hasn't really fully grown in yet, and the shorn mop makes her look absolutely crazy. Enobaria bears her teeth as the children come in and fill the square. I know we are meant to look powerful, and I play my part. I hold my bow over my head and the crowd of rebels lined behind the children scream in anticipation. Peeta looks sick. When Coin takes the stage, she depresses a button and her platform lifts her high into the air. She wants everyone to see her. Good.

"People of Panem!" The crowds fall still. Coin begins to speak, and it starts with the same story we hear every year. The history of Panem, the country that rose up from the ashes of a place once called North America. She enumerates the disasters, the droughts, the famine. The brutal wars. She talks about the Dark Days, the failed uprising that resulted in The Hunger Games. "And we endured. And we waited. For 74 years, we watched the Capitol reap our children like cattle for slaughter. But now, the people have risen again!" The crowd cheers uncontrollably. She waits for the mania to ebb. "This shall be the end. Today, we reap the last tributes. Today, the Capitol truly falls. They shall sacrifice their children, and we shall all be reborn as the blood of their own spills like the blood of ours has for far too long. Only then we will be equal. Only then we will be the same."

I look down into the children below. They are crying and clinging to one another. They haven't been waiting for this day their whole lives. They are ill-prepared, and it shows. Siblings lock hands. They dressed up for today just like we did in the Districts. They knew to wear their best. Other than that, they are utterly terrified. I take a breath, load an arrow, and aim it up at Coin. I know I only have one chance. Bullets may pierce my body before it even leaves my bow, but I can stop the bloodshed. One more drop. Hers. And probably mine. And then I can be with my sister again. I let it fly.

The arrow pierces Coin through her heart and she falls from the risen pedestal. I know before she hits the ground she is dead. Blood slowly pools around her body. I reach for my shoulder to grab my nightlock pill, but I feel Peeta reaching for it. We struggle, and the pill flies from our hands and rolls away on the platform. In that moment I am surrounded by soldiers in grey uniforms. I'm unsure what lies ahead - torture, probable execution. I hadn't thought this far. I hadn't planned to live this long. I see Effie grab the reaping bowl and smash it into the ground, sending shards of crystal flying in all directions. As they drag me away, the last thing I see is Peeta's face searching for mine. He knows. He knows why I did this, why I voted to force a Reaping. He knows I'm still the girl he fell in love with. But I'm done playing their games.


	6. Chapter 6

_In the mansion, they handcuff and blindfold me._ I'm dragged through hallways and stairwells, until I'm finally deposited in a room. I hear the door slam behind me, and I lift my blindfold to discover I'm in our old room in the Tribute Center, only this time, I'm alone. The room is full of ghosts. I see Cinna and Portia, laughing at the dinner table and passing a bottle of wine. I see Haymitch and Effie in the corner, whispering to one another. Peeta is there, he's everywhere. He's in my room, he's in his room. He's perched on the windowsill, looking down at the city. He's in the bathroom, pushing the buttons on the shower and laughing at the different soaps and scents that come out. The door to the roof is locked, but I'm sure he's up there too.

I go to my old room and strip the Mockingjay suit from my body. There are no other clothes in the drawers. Cinna's creations are gone. I curl under the covers in my underwear and pull the sheets over my head. I miss Peeta. I miss Gale. But mostly, I miss Prim. While she was never here at the Tribute Center with me, I carried her with me everywhere I went. She only went with me to the forest once, and I still saw her in every flower that bloomed, every fawn that munched on spring grass.

Prim haunts me much like Rue did. I picture them together, where no one can hurt them anymore. I picture Rue reaching out her tiny hand, and my sister grasping it. I imagine Prim braiding Rue's hair. It brings a smile to my face, but smiling makes me feel dizzy with guilt, and I quickly purge it from my lips.

Much like in the hospital, I lose track of time. Necessities are slipped to me through the door - clothes, food, toothpaste, drugs. I have a litany of pills I'm supposed to take - anti-rejection meds for my skin, morphling for pain, sleeping aids and antibiotics. I don't take any of them. I flush them all down the toilet, except the morphling. The morphling I hide in the top drawer of my dresser. I may need that.

As the days and weeks go on, I spiral downward. My skin starts to fray away from me. It's painful and I think I deserve it. My thoughts stagger between my kills and the deaths for which I'm ultimately responsible. I think back to the rubble that used to be my home - to the bodies littering the streets, frozen in scenes of horror. Mothers with arms cradled around infants charred to the bone. Kids hiding under their beds. The elderly curled in a rocking chair, unable to flee and fully aware of the impending inferno. The couple found wrapped around one another in a closet. Those are all on me. I walk to my dresser and open the top drawer. Scores of morphling tabs roll around. I scoop them up with my hand. This should be plenty.

I go to the bathroom and run a bath. This way, if I only pass out, at least I'll drown. I lower my body into the lukewarm water. I swallow the fistful of pills and I slip into oblivion. I wake up in my bed hours later. My hair is dry and braided, my pajamas are fresh, and my stomach is churning. Apparently I'm not allowed to die, either. What? Are they keeping me alive just so they can execute me? I assassinated their President in front of thousands of people. I sit up in bed and scream, "WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? COME ON! COME AND GET ME!" I pound my fists into the bed and tear it apart. I beat the pillow until feathers burst out. This is the most exertion I've had in weeks, and I lay on the floor exhausted. I look around me and I'm surrounded by feathers. I sweep my arms up and down and make a feather angel, like Prim and I used to do in the snow. I stare at the ceiling, and out of nowhere, my voice slips from my lips.

 _Deep in the meadow, under the willow  
A bed of grass, a soft green pillow  
Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes  
And when again they open, the sun will rise._

I sing the lullaby for Rue. I sing The Hanging Tree. I sing the Valley Song. I sing every song I can remember, until sleep takes me.

I'm shocked the next morning when Haymitch enters my room. "Your trial's over. Come on. We're going home." Home? I don't have a home. 12 is gone. I can't go anywhere, I don't have any shoes. I'm not thinking straight. I don't understand.

Haymitch, in maybe the only sweet gesture he's ever made to me, takes my hand and leads me up to the roof, where a hovercraft is waiting for us. I duck my head and step inside. I'm still disoriented. The sun is really bright and the distances are blurry. He buckles me into my seat and I focus on my companions for this journey - Haymitch and Plutarch. The hovercraft lifts into the air, and we are off.

"You must have a million questions, Mockingjay!" Plutarch exclaims. It takes all of my self control not to spit on him.

"Don't call me that," I say back with as much contempt as I can muster. It doesn't seem to phase him in the slightest. Plutarch continues on as if we are old chums. After I assassinated Coin, there was mass chaos. Effie smashed the reaping bowl, which I saw. The children were rushed from the square by guards and returned to their homes. An emergency election was held, and Paylor was elected President. The reaping was cancelled, The Hunger Games were cancelled. Snow's body was found in the marble tunnel, but reports left out that it was plagued with Mockingjay arrows. My trial was televised, where Plutarch and Dr. Aurelius painted me as a mad girl, a shell-shocked lunatic with little to no grip on reality. Witnesses from 13 testified about the time I wandered the halls "mentally disoriented" when the Capitol took Peeta. After my criminal exoneration, I was to be released to Dr. Aurelius's care. In an agreement hatched behind closed doors, it was determined I would return to District 12, accompanied by my mentor and now guardian, Haymitch. I was to continue my sessions with Dr. Aurelius over the phone. But I could go home.

"So what now? For the country, I mean?"

 _"Now we're in that sweet period where everyone agrees that our recent horrors should never be repeated," he says. "But collective thinking is short-lived. We're fickle, stupid beings with poor memories and a great gift for self-destruction. But who knows? Maybe this time it sticks. Maybe we are witnessing the evolution of the human race."_

Plutarch continues to babble on about his new job, and asks if I'd be interested in participating in his new singing program. I'm not. We briefly land in 3 and drop off Plutarch. Haymitch and I continue home. We land in the middle of Victor's Village. I'm still barefoot and in my pajamas, but I meander up to my door. Haymitch follows me inside.

"Everything's pretty much how it was. I'll give you some time to settle in, sweetheart." He squeezes my shoulder but hesitates at the door. "Can I leave you alone here, Katniss? Do you want to come home with me?"

The idea of staying with Haymitch actually makes me laugh out loud. He gives me a sideways look. "I'll see you in a few hours, then. For dinner." He closes the door behind him and I take in my empty house, in my empty village, in my empty district. This place is full of a new set of ghosts. Gale, lying on his stomach on my kitchen table, his back flayed. My mother and sister, hovering and silent and serious, putting him back together. I wander to my bedroom and find my father's hunting jacket in my closet. My other belongings from 13 sit on my dresser. I put his jacket on. It's heavy and musty. It feels bigger than it used to, but I know I lost weight during my trial. The idea of food make me crinkle my nose. I collapse onto my bed and stare out the window. I can see Peeta's house, empty. His ghost sits next to my bed, drawing in our plant book. His blonde eyelashes are almost transparent as the sunlight crosses his face. He looks at me and smiles. Prim leaps onto the bed next to me. My heart breaks.

The sun sets and I am frozen in bed. Haymitch comes up to my room and tells me dinner is ready. I can't imagine him cooking, not like I'd eat even if it was lamb stew. I tell him I'm not hungry. Haymitch understands grief. He whispers goodnight and closes the door. The night passes and I'm in and out of consciousness.

The next morning, I hear rummaging in my kitchen. I assume it's Haymitch, until a delicious aroma creeps up my stairs. I sneak out of my room and perch at the top of my stairs. Greasy Sae is in my kitchen, stirring eggs on the stove and frying bacon in a pan. Haymitch sits on a stool and tries to steal bits of potato from a pot, and she swats his hand with a wooden spoon.

"Dear God, woman!" he cries out as he rubs his knuckles. I can't believe Haymitch is up this early. I can't believe he's sitting in my kitchen, eating potatoes and not a liquid breakfast. He clings to his coffee as though it is anchoring him down, and I can tell his head is splitting. Haymitch is sober. Sae just glares at him. She's never been one for a lot of words. I creep my way down the stairs and sit on the stool next to Haymitch.

"Coffee?" Sae asks, and I nod my head. I've never really liked coffee. Peeta always puts a bunch of cream and sugar in it to get me through it, but I've really never understood the allure.

"Where's Peeta?" I ask Haymitch quietly.

"He's in the Capitol still. He is in therapy with Dr. Aurelius. He hasn't been cleared for travel yet." Haymitch replies.

I guess it makes sense, and I just nod my head automatically. I can't imagine he'd want to come back here. This district is a graveyard for his family. His bakery was burned to the ground. I'm a shell of a person, I can't take care of him. I can't nurse his wounds, I have too many of my own. I don't expect I'll see him again. Maybe Peeta can finally move on. Maybe the look we shared on the stage over the sea of guards dragging me away was really a goodbye. It should be. He should find someone that will love him without dead sister baggage. Someone with an open heart. Someone who will give him children, and a real marriage, and a life worth living. That someone isn't me.

"Where's my mom?" I ask. For the first time since my father died, all I want is my mom. I want her to stroke my hair and tell me everything will be alright. I want her to make me eggs, not Sae.

"She couldn't do it, sweetheart. There are too many memories here," Haymitch tries to take my hand, but it's not like him and it feels fake. I withdraw. I push my eggs around my plate. My mother has never been one to shoulder grief with dignity. She didn't take care of me when I was a child, starving and crying out for my dead father. I don't know why I expected her to take care of me now. Why would she come back here and comfort a fire mutt?

"I'm not really hungry," I say and excuse myself from the table. I thank Sae quietly and go back upstairs. This ritual continues for some time. Sae making breakfast. Most of the time Haymitch is there, even though it's too early for him and I can see the bleariness in his eyes. I stop showering. I don't change my clothes. I don't see the point in any of it. I walk past my sister's room and drag my fingers across the door, but I can't go in. It's like a time capsule. I can see where everything is in my mind's eye. Hair ribbons on the desk in front of the mirror. Dresses Cinna sent for her lining her closet, even though, if she were alive today, she'd have outgrown them by now. I know why Coin's heart had frozen. Losing a child is a special kind of torture, and Prim was as close to a child as I'll ever have. I cared for her when our mother could not. She was mine. I'd die for her. I volunteered to do just that. It feels cruel that she's the one gone now, and I'm stuck standing outside her room like a woman trapped in a widow's peak. Buttercup somehow finds his way back home. We find a mutual place with our grief. We aren't friends, but I don't feel like I need to drown him.

Spring finally comes. The earth starts to come back to life, and so do I a little. I've spent the winter locked in my home, but today, I want to go outside. I try to brush through the rat's nest that was once my hair, but it's stubborn. Maybe I'll just cut it off. Or maybe Effie could send me something. She's been sending me little things here and there. A bottle of olive oil. A balm for my skin. Earrings that I'll never wear. Gale sent me a letter. I didn't open it. I threw it in the fire and watched the flames consume it. Peeta writes almost every day. I keep his letters in a drawer in the kitchen, but I don't read them.

I tie my hair in a knot on top of my head and put on my father's hunting jacket. I make my way out to the Meadow. When I first returned home, the earth had been turned up. They used this area as a mass grave when they cleaned up after the fire bombings. But now, little spurts of grass shoot their way from the earth, and crocuses cover the field. I am careful to step around the perimeter. I don't want to walk over anyone's grave. The fence has mostly collapsed, and I easily climb over it. I barely make it to my meeting spot with Gale before I am gasping for breath. My lungs burn, I feel acid eating at the muscles in my legs. I lay back on the rock and stare up to the sun. I feel the warm rays hit my cheek against the cool, Spring air, and for just a moment, I doesn't hurt to be alive. For just this one moment it's me and the woods. My woods.

After a while, I head back home again. I see my old house in the Seam next to the Meadow, and I try not to look at it. As I head up out of the path to Victor's Village, I see a familiar figure crouched in front of my house. He grasps a shovel and his wide shoulders flex as he pushes the blade into the earth. He drops to his knees and begins burying the roots of a plant along my walkway. His blonde hair falls in his eyes. I want to run, but my legs feel like lead. I just move toward him, silently, until he sees my shadow. He turns and looks up at me, his blue eyes raised to mine.

"Peeta," I breathe his name into the cold air. "You came back."

"They wouldn't let me leave until yesterday. I took an overnight train to get here."

"What are you doing?" I ask, surveying the plants in the wheelbarrow, the two buried in the earth of my yard.

"I found these at the edge of the woods. I thought maybe we could plant them by the house. For her." His voice is timid, and he drops his eyes to his feet. I see the tiny roses blossoming on the plant, and I feel sick. Why would he bring these here? I could live a hundred years and never see another rose. Then I realize… these aren't just any rose. These are primroses; the plant my sister was named for. All at once the walls I had built up fall, and I wrap Peeta in a tight embrace. I bury my face in his neck, and he tries to hug me back without getting the dirt from his hands on my clothes.

"I don't care, Peeta, just hold me." He wraps his fingers in mine, soil crunching and dirtying my skin, my clothes. We stand there in silence for a long time, clinging to each other. My legs are tired but I don't care. Finally, we break apart and I help him plant the remaining bushes. I wipe my hands on my pants as the last one takes root in the ground. I look at Peeta, give him a half smile, and walk into my house. I close the door behind me.


	7. Chapter 7

The very first thing I think when I enter my house is that I need to shower. My fingernails are filled with dirt, my body is sweaty from the exertion of the trip to the woods. I go up to my bathroom and peek out the window. Peeta is cleaning up in the yard. He piles the tools in the wheelbarrow and pushes everything back to his house. I wonder if he's even been inside yet. He must have, I don't see bags. Of course, I didn't come with anything more than my pajamas, so who am I to judge? I watch as he hammers the dirt from his boots and heads into his house.

I had been thinking of a shower, but instead I run a bath. The is the first bath since the incident with the morphling, but I don't feel afraid. I may be alone in this house, but I'm not alone. I have my boys - Haymitch on one side of my yard and Peeta on the other. I add some of the smelly liquids Effie has sent me, and bubbles burst with scents of lavender and lemongrass. I slip my body into the warm water and can't help when a sigh escapes from my mouth. My muscles instantly relax, and I feel calm for the first time in months. I use a sponge to scrub my fingers and toes. I take a few drops of the lavender oil and work it through my hair. With a little patience, I'm able to work out the knots, and the I slowly lower my head into the water again. I feel my hair billow around me. I feel light.

After I'm sufficiently pruned, I towel off and empty the tub. I dig some clean clothes from the bottom of my dresser. They don't fit great, but they don't smell either. I walk into the kitchen and boil some water for tea. While I wait, I stare at the drawer holding Peeta's letters. I don't know why I didn't read them. I lied to myself and said it was to help him move on from me, but I think I didn't have the strength to read them. Now, with Peeta yards away from me, curiosity wins over and I open the drawer.

I bound all the letters in a piece of twine and tied it in a fancy knot Finnick taught me. I pull the loose string and the knot elegantly unfurls. I guess I'll start at the beginning, and I reach to the bottom of the pile. The kettle screams it's ready, and I make myself some mint tea before settling on the couch with the letters.

 _Dear Katniss,_

 _I'm not sure this letter will even get delivered to you. I'm told you are being held in our old suite while your trial is happening. I just wanted to say I know. I know why you voted the way you did now. I'm sorry I didn't figure it out then._

 _Please don't be mad that I threw your nightlock pill. I know that was your out, but I'm not ready to be without you._

 _Anyways, hoping you are well and you aren't stir crazy. I know I am. I just want to go home. I want to smell the soot in Twelve. I want to be in a familiar bed, surrounded with things I know. It makes it easier to remember who I am when I'm with things I know._

 _Well, I guess that's it for now._

 _I miss you._

 _Peeta_

 _Dear Katniss,_

 _Dr. Aurelius has been helping me a lot with sorting things out. I think Prim is ultimately the one who saved me though. Her idea of showing me real memories while using a calming agent has made a big difference. She was smart beyond her years. I think she would have made an incredible doctor someday._

 _Prim used to come see me every day in Thirteen. I'm struggling without her here, which I know is selfish of me to say to you, but she was kind of like my little sister too. She used to sneak Buttercup into my room to cheer me up, and once she stole an apple from the cafeteria for me. I remember scolding her, "Primrose Everdeen!" and this mischievous smile creeped across her face. It was the most like you she's ever looked._

 _It's really hard here without her. It's really hard without you._

 _Peeta_

 _Dear Katniss,_

 _I hope my letters are getting to you. I haven't heard back, but I'll keep trying. I know you close off when stuff gets bad. I just hope you aren't closed off. There's so much left here worth fighting for._

 _Peeta_

There are dozens and dozens of letters. I start to feel guilty that I ignored them for so long, but I never would have written back, even if I had read them. I'm not sure how to sort through what I am feeling. I am glad Peeta is home, but at the same time I'm not sure who he is anymore. I'm not sure who I am anymore. We certainly aren't the same kids that were reaped for the Games. I know whatever there was between us, whatever we were kindling in the Quarter Quell, is gone. He can't love me anymore. And I don't deserve that love anyway. Even if I didn't return the feelings, or know _how_ to, always having Peeta there was something I could rely on. But now... he deserves much better than the shell of what I once was. I've always been cold and off-putting. I can't imagine loving a damaged version of that will help him heal. I can't help anybody. I can't even help myself.

Evening has fallen outside, and I turn on a lamp in my living room. I peer back out the window at Peeta's, and I see his light is on. There is a shadow in the kitchen. I'm sure he's baking. Motion to my right catches my eye, and I see Haymitch making his way across my lawn to Peeta's house. He knocks at the door, which Peeta opens. The two embrace in the doorway for a long time. Finally, Peeta opens the door wider and Haymitch goes through. He closes the door. Haymitch must be there late into the night, because I doze off and when I come to he is still there. I'm sure they are catching up, playing chess, arguing. I feel a pang of jealousy, but I know I'm not ready for that. I shut off the lamp in the living room and head to bed.

The next morning Haymitch and Sae are in my kitchen. I assess Haymitch, who looks, if possible, even more groggy than usual.

"I didn't expect to see you here so early," I comment, pouring myself some coffee.

"Why's that?" he asks.

"Just seemed like you had a late night, that's all." Sae eyes the both of us, easily picking up there is more to this conversation than meets the eye.

"Yeah, I went to see the kid. What's the big deal?"

"No big deal," I say as casually as I can manage. Keeping up my feigned disinterest, I sip my coffee. "Since you brought it up, how is he?"

He smirks at me. I'm still not used to a sober Haymitch, but if anything he's even more quick-witted than the drunken version of himself. "Why don't you ask him yourself?" he retorts.

"I'll be too busy today," I play it cool. Sae and Haymitch both give me the hairy eyeball. "I'm hunting," I explain. "Any requests?"

"Well, if I knew all it took to get you out of the house was to put you in close proximity to the boy, I would have pushed for him to come back long ago. You do have a way with avoiding your problems."

A bit peeved, I scowl back, "Peeta is not my problem. And I'm not yours."

I storm out of the room, and I hear Haymitch call behind me, "That's not what Paylor says!"

I slam my bedroom door. Haymitch hangs around downstairs, finishing his breakfast and the pot of coffee. I think he's found a new addiction, but since it doesn't result in his vomiting and blacking out, I don't pester him about it. I stay up in my room much too long, and I realize Haymitch is probably reveling in the rightness of his assertion about me. I do avoid my problems. I'm avoiding him right now. I throw on my hunting jacket and storm out of the house, but not before turning around and giving him my winningest smile.

I stomp to the woods. I still tire easily, but I push myself a little farther. If I do this every day I'll be to the lake by summer. I stop and realize that's the first time I've thought about the future in a while. I dig my old bow and arrow out of a felled tree trunk. I'm a rusty shot, but eventually I get a squirrel right through the eye. I load up my game bag and head back. I leave the squirrel on Peeta's doorstep, knock, and walk back to my house. I see him open the door, look around, and then see the squirrel. I catch his eye and smile before I slip back into my house. I skin my game, make some dinner, and fall asleep in my bed reading Peeta's letters. When the morning sun breaks through my bedroom window, I realize I've slept the whole night.

Sae is downstairs cooking breakfast, and Haymitch keeps his usual perch on one of my stools, nursing a cup of coffee. He taps his foot impatiently.

"I need you to come with me down to the train station today," Haymitch says.

"Oh?" I reply through a mouthful of eggs.

"The kid is gonna be there. Is that an issue?"

My heart thuds a little harder in my chest. "No," I say, "that's not an issue. It will only be for a few minutes, right?"

"Yeah, we are just meeting someone at the train. Peeta was sent home, but he's supposed to have a guardian too."

"Why? He didn't execute anyone." It shocks me how carelessly I refer to murdering Coin. I regret a lot of what I've done over the last few years, but I still have no doubt killing her saved countless lives. I'm not apologizing for it.

"Because of Mitchell."

"Oh." I say barely audibly.

"They are sending someone from the Capitol in today. I tried to insist that I could keep an eye on both of you, but apparently you're a handful. I think it would be a good idea if you were at the station with me. Make it look like I have some control over you." Haymitch uses pretend quote fingers on the word control, and he earns half a smile from me.

"I understand." I'm acquiescing a little easier than normal, but I don't have enough energy to fight every battle anymore. "What time does the train come in?"

"About an hour."

"Okay."

45 minutes later, Peeta, Haymitch and I meet at the gate of Victor's Village. We walk down the road together, Haymitch with a kid on each side. We get to the station a little early and take a seat on one of the benches. Apparently Peeta's new guardian will occupy one of the vacant houses in Victor's Village. We speculate on how they will take to District 12, and Haymitch suggests we prank by insisting disgusting dishes like goat tongue are "customary" in District 12. Peeta feels awful, but he laughs anyway.

The train pulls in, and we each hold our breath. I press down my shirt and try to look presentable. If they think Haymitch isn't doing well with me, I might end up with a Capitol guardian too. Once again, I'm putting on a show. I plaster a fake smile to my face and prepare to use all the guile Effie once tried so desperately to instill in me. A gloved hand reaches out from the train and grips that of the attendant. As he helps her down, my smile transforms into a genuine shriek of glee as the woman herself steps out of the train. Peeta's guardian is Effie Trinket.


	8. Chapter 8

Haymitch immediately dubs Effie a fish out of water. Watching her try to blend in in District 12 is nothing short of comical. I laugh when she scrunches her nose at Sae's wild dog stew. She spends her mornings with Peeta while Haymitch spends his mornings with me. Dinner is usually with all of us. About a month in, Effie shows up to dinner without a wig. I can't help but stare when she comes in the door. Peeta tells her she looks beautiful, and Haymitch smiles all night. We don't see anymore wigs after that.

Peeta and I don't spend time alone. He doesn't trust himself with me. I'm not ready. We don't touch, but we stay close. He stands at the counter cutting bread, and I lean across from him picking crumbs with my fingers. I wash the dishes and he dries. We spy on Effie and Haymitch when they think they aren't being watched. I leave game on his doorstep. He leaves cheese buns on my counter. We co-exist apart.

But some days aren't yours. They start against your will, they drag on and take you with them. You don't want to move on. You don't want to stand still. You can't go back. But time just pushes you forward anyway. Days like this I spend in my closet. I don't let Haymitch in. I don't let Effie in. I cry for my sister. I cry for Finnick. I cry for that woman I killed in the Capitol. I haven't learned her name. I don't plan to. Some days I just sit in the closet silently. Some days Peeta comes and sits on the other side of the door. He doesn't talk either.

One spell seems to drag on and I can't snap myself out of it. Dr. Aurelius calls. I don't answer. In the middle of the night, I crawl out of my closet and stand outside my sister's door. I put my hand on the handle and dare myself to turn it. I just want to be close to her again, if just for a minute. I know it's not a good idea, but I turn the knob and creep inside.

Her room is dark. I click on the light and everything about her floods my senses. The smell of her. The taste of the stash of hard candy she kept in her nightstand. I take one of her hair ribbons and smooth the silk between my fingers. I rub it against my lips and whisper her name. I crawl into her closet, surrounded by tiny dresses. I remember her beaming at Cinna when he showed her the shimmery gold dress she would wear to the Harvest Festival. I remember Cinna draping her, pinning her hair against her head. I remember how the dress matched his eyeliner. Prim said so. It made her feel special. I find the dress and pull it from it's hanger. I lie in her closet and let the tears fill my eyes. That's when I hear the front door creak.

"Katniss?" I hear Peeta call out my name in a hushed whisper. I hear his feet cross to my staircase. He's never had a soft footfall. He walks slowly up the the steps. "Katniss?" he calls a little louder this time. He stands at the threshold of Prim's door. "Katniss, I saw the light in Prim's room. Are you okay in there?" I stay silent. I am catatonic in the closet. I'm not here anymore, I'm in another time where Prim twirls around my living room while Cinna claps his hands.

"Can I come in?" I don't answer.

"Can I not come in?" I don't answer that either.

I hear Peeta cross the threshold. Inside I burn with fury. This is my place, no one else's. This is private. This is where Prim is. Peeta crouches outside the closet door. I remain a shell on the outside.

"I remember that dress. Prim talked about it for days after. I think she told me she slept in it the night of the Harvest Festival."

"She did," I whisper.

"What?" Peeta says, not hearing me.

"She did. She slept in it."

"That doesn't surprise me at all." He sits on the floor. His back is on the door frame and he faces me. He rests his head back and takes in all the dresses in the closet. Slowly, his hand slips toward mine. I see it coming. He's moving very slowly. When the tips of our fingers meet, I look at him. He weaves his fingers into mine. Our palms press together. We sit there all night.

The next morning, Haymitch comes upstairs to pull me out of bed after I don't come down for breakfast. He walks past Prim's room to mine, and panics when he realizes I'm not there. I hear him stomp down to the front hall, and when he finds my hunting jacket still hanging in the closet, his step quickens. I can hear him pacing the hallway until he finally stops when he notices the door to Prim's room is ajar. He pushes the door open and peers inside. He sees Peeta sitting in the door frame of the closet. They silently nod at one another, and Haymitch closes the door. That's another day gone.

Eventually I leave the room and Peeta goes home. A few days later, I come downstairs for dinner. I sit at the table and Effie smiles at me warmly. She's not very domestic. She doesn't cook. This meal was prepared by Peeta. He's made a meat pie with a sage gravy. It smells like heaven, and when I cut into it, the juices gush out onto my plate. I think what a good husband he'll make someday. For someone. The mood around the table is jovial. Haymitch laughs heartily as Effie describes an unfortunate trip into Town. Most of the townspeople don't trust her after years of reaping their children, and they misdirect her whenever they can. She's taken to walking the opposite direction of wherever she's been told. I feel bad that Effie is such a pariah here. I feel _something_. Well, that's a start.

After dinner, Peeta and I wash the dishes as Effie and Haymitch settle in front of the TV to watch Plutarch's new singing show. I know they are lingering on purpose. They are worried about me. When Peeta dries and puts away the last dish, I turn to him and face him directly.

"Thank you," I say.

"You're welcome, Katniss."

"Not for the dish." I lace my fingers carefully in his. He meets my eyes with uncertainty in his brow. "For loving Prim. For missing her." He releases a breath I hadn't realized he'd been holding. Prim's loss was devastating for him too. He raises his hand and smooths his palm across my cheek, tangling his fingers in my hair. I rest my forehead on his chest. We hear the front door close and realize our guardians have left us alone. We don't do alone.

He drops his lips to the top of my head and whispers "I should go" into my my hair. My grip on his hand tightens, and one of my spare fingers hooks into his belt loop.

"Yeah, you should go." I pull him closer.

"I'm going." His stomach is flesh with mine. His fingers are tracing circles on my scalp. I lift my face and breathe into his neck. He nuzzles his chin down. I press a soft kiss onto his skin. My stomach tightens and I feel my skin tingling. We stand like this for a while in my kitchen. Holding each other. Swaying slightly. He twirls my hair in his fingers. I trace burn scars on his arm. I listen to his heart beat. He listens to me breathe.

Finally, he kisses the top of my head and pulls away. He walks slowly to the door and turns back to me. "Goodnight, Katniss."

"Night," I say.


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning at breakfast, I feel a little awkward about the embrace. Haymitch keeps grinning at me like an idiot when he thinks I'm not looking. I scowl at him. I need to stop needing Peeta, and vice versa. What we need is some distance. He's never going to move on if he keeps spending his nights with his hands tangled in my hair, and I'm never going to be what he's looking for. If anything, losing Prim has cemented my commitment to not having children. I had them give me a shot in the Capitol that prevents pregnancy for five years, but I wish they'd just rip out my womb. I can't ever do that.

I need to get away. I put on my father's hunting jacket, lace up my worn, leather boots, and head for the woods. The sun is bright today, and it feels invigorating. The air is still crisp with an early Spring bite, and I feel myself come alive out here. I move silently over dead leaves and brush. The trees are recognizing the changing season, with tiny green and red buds gathering at the tips of the branches. The ground will be muddy in a few weeks, but right now it's still too cold for that. I occasionally cross a frozen puddle. I gather my bow and arrow and hunt for a few hours. The haul is good, though the animals are still pretty lean from their end-of-winter physique, but Sae won't mind.

I make my way to the Market, which is kind of like the Hob, but open air and much more pleasant. Merchants have booths or tables set up. A couple hundred people made their way back to 12. Not all of our survivors came home. Most, like my mother, feel like they are walking through a mass grave. I, on the other hand, find comfort in familiar faces. I could grow old here. Maybe I should set up a booth. I could sell the pelts from my game. I don't need the money, but I'm sure people would appreciate the product, especially in the colder months. I've never been much of a sewer. Cinna taught me the name of a few stitches for my talent interviews, but that hardly means I know how to do them. I ruminate over the idea as I plop myself in front of Sae.

"I've got squirrel, rabbit, and a pheasant. Take your pick, lady." She pulls the rabbit out of my game bag and hands me a cup of stew. I wrap my frozen fingers around the burning mug and let the heat permeate my blood. I could live like this forever. I don't need Peeta.

I don't need Peeta. I don't need Peeta. I repeat it to myself as I walk home. I enter my house and the smell of fresh cheese buns wafts from my counter. Okay, maybe I don't need Peeta, but I like having him around. But I need to stop being selfish. If there is one word to describe my end of the relationship with Peeta, it's selfish. I keep him tethered to me by offering him a glance or holding his hand once in awhile. I don't mean to, but I do. I feel better when he's around, so I keep him here. But I'm not helping Peeta heal. We hardly ever talk about his family. Portia. His prep team. His time in the Capitol. That's our euphemism for his torture. His "time in the Capitol." We just brush over it like he doesn't need to heal the same way I do. He confided to me in his letters, but I'm hardly approachable in person. He's afraid if he brings up anything hard, I might shatter. He's treating me with kid gloves, which I admit I need, but it's not fair to him.

I get an idea. It's not exactly keeping away from him, but it will have to do for now.

After I shower, I throw on some clean clothes and head to Peeta's. I finally started doing laundry after one day Sae told me she'd make me eggs, but she wasn't touching my dirty underwear. I laughed, but that afternoon I did every stitch of laundry in the house. Hopefully it will last me a while. When Peeta opens his door he's a little surprised to see me. I'm standing with the plant book pressed against my chest.

"Hey," I say.

"Hey," he says back. "Effie isn't here right now. Do you maybe want to talk at dinner?"

"No, that's fine," I say as I pass him and push my way into his house. He doesn't close the door or leave the breezeway.

"Katniss, I don't know if you should be here alone."

"I have an idea," I say, ignoring his last statement.

A crooked smile spreads across his face. "Oh do you? What's that?"

I sit on one of the stools in his kitchen. His house is set up exactly like mine. I've told myself that's why it always feels like home when I'm here, but Haymitch and Effie's houses are also identical and they don't feel like home.

"Peeta, tell me about your dad."

He is obviously caught off guard. Peeta closes the door slowly and makes his way cautiously into the kitchen. "My dad? You knew my dad. You traded with him all the time."

"Peeta," I say again, making direct eye contact this time. "Tell me about your dad."

"My dad… My dad was everything I want to be someday. He was kind. He was generous. He took care of his family. When he laughed, his whole body shook and sometimes tears would slide down his cheeks. He had a hard time keeping a straight face, and he couldn't lie to save his life. He made the best biscuits in the world. He had secret nicknames for me and my brothers that he'd only use when my mother wasn't around. He used to put notes in my pants pockets. He… he used to draw."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Nothing fancy. Pencil sketches on scrap paper. He'd draw elephants and tigers and things you only read about in books. He had an incredible imagination and would craft dragons breathing fire or trolls under bridges. He'd make up stories about them and tell them to us at night, when my mother was asleep. He was never very book smart. He struggled with the accounting and stuff at the bakery. My mother always held it over his head. But he could draw anything you could think of."

I smile. He keeps going.

"He was allergic to strawberries. His lips would puff up until he looked like President Snow. Once, when my mother was mad at him, she snuck strawberries in his dinner and he nearly choked to death when his throat closed. I remember screaming and crying and running to get your mother."

"Really? I don't remember this."

"Yeah. She had a tiny pink pill. She pushed it into my dad's mouth, and then she sat with him. It took about an hour for him to get back to normal. She sat there holding his hand and reminiscing about their childhood." Peeta clears his throat. "I guess they were friends back when you mom lived in Town."

"That couldn't have gone over well in the Mellark household."

"Oh no. My mom was furious, but you know how your mom gets when she's in healer mode. She was the one in control. My mom didn't talk to my dad for a week after that."

"When was that?" I ask.

"I don't know… maybe 4 years ago?" he replies.

"I think we should put it in the book."

"Okay. I mean, capturing a strawberry should be pretty easy," Peeta says.

"No, I mean, I think we should put your dad in the book. And mine too."

Peeta looks at me incredulously.

"I want to make a new book, like our plant book, only with people. I was thinking I could write stories about them, and you could do a portrait. Like we did before." I say.

Peeta smiles and nods his head at me.

"You could write stories, too, of course. But I'm not doing any of the portraits. Unless you don't want to recognize anyone."

Peeta laughs, and the tension melts away.

We tell Haymitch and Effie about our plan over dinner. Effie thinks it's a wonderful idea, and goes on and on about the supplies she'll order for us. Haymitch asks if he could add some pages for the tributes before us. Of course we say yes. The supplies come in on the next train. Peeta and I both start with our dads. I lay on my stomach on Peeta's living room floor, writing feverishly about my dad teaching me to swim. Peeta sketches his father in pencil. He spends hours on his mustache.

Peeta looks a lot like his dad. I thought maybe one day he'd grow a mustache too, and then he really would transform into Mr. Mellark, but Peeta hasn't been able to grow any facial hair since our first Games. I think the Capitol did something, otherwise some of the boys would be a scruffy mess just a few days in. Of course, many were much too young to grow facial hair. I push the thought from my head.

When we finish, we share our pages. Seeing Mr. Mellark smiling back at me takes my breath away. I remember him giving me cookies before the Games. I feel bad now, that I threw them out the train window. I think about seeing him after a morning hunt with Gale and smile. I notice the sun is setting, and realize I've spent the entire afternoon at Peeta's. We haven't more than a few minutes alone since returning to 12. I hand his page back to him.

"I'll add watercolors tomorrow. I need to work on finding the right blue for his eyes."

I stand up and stretch. My stomach grumbles and I realize we skipped lunch. "It's almost dinner time, and it's my turn to cook. Effie isn't going to be happy with me."

"Why don't we run down to the Market and grab something real quick?" Peeta suggests. I agree, and we clean up our mess.

"That felt… good," I say as I pick up extra scrap paper from the floor. "I think this was a good idea."

"Me too," Peeta smiles.

We head out to Town. It's been getting warmer in the last couple weeks, and neither of us wear a jacket. It feels good to have my friend back. We can be friends. We walk a couple feet apart, chatting about who we want to include in the book. Prim, Rue of course, Peeta's family, Boggs, Finnick…

"Mitchell." Peeta says quietly. We stop walking and I take his hand. Internally I scold myself. This is the reason Peeta can't move on. But I think getting him through this moment is more important than that right now. That's all grief is, really. Getting through moments. Tackling one after the next.

"That wasn't you, Peeta." I say. "That's on Snow."

He nods, but I know he doesn't believe me. He will torture himself for the rest of his life over this. I pull myself in closer to him, pop onto my tiptoes, and softly kiss his mouth. He doesn't kiss me back, but he wraps his arms around my waist and holds me there for a moment before we start walking again.

Stupid. Stupid stupid. It's just like Gale said. I can't see someone I love in pain. Obviously I love Peeta. Maybe it's not a romantic kind of love, but I love him. After everything we've been through, I think I can finally admit that. And it's not specifically Peeta, I just don't want anything romantic with anyone. We reach the market and I buy a roasted chicken, some fingerling potatoes, and a bunch of leafy greens. At home, I saute the greens on the stove while Peeta tosses the potatoes in some oil and rosemary before placing them in the oven. We work silently, but it's comfortable. Haymitch and Effie show up separately, and Peeta and I tease them since we know they were together all afternoon. Dinner is routine, and pleasant all the same. None of us have had routine. We like routine. Routine is nice. So when the phone rings that night, I step away from our card game and answer it. I assume it's my mom.

"Hey mom," I say into the receiver, laughing as Haymitch tries to steal one of Effie's cards while she's preening in a hand mirror.

"Hey Catnip," Gale answers on the other end.


	10. Chapter 10

The blood in my veins runs cold.

"You there?" I hear Gale's voice in the receiver. I drop the phone, leaving it dangling from a cord on the wall, and walk immediately upstairs. I slam my door and crawl into the closet. Downstairs I can hear the commotion.

I hear Peeta answer the phone, "Hello?" He must hear a click, because he tells Effie and Haymitch there's no one there. There is some more bustling as they clean up dinner, but I just pull a scarf Cinna made me from above and wrap it around my hands. I hear some footsteps on the stairs. I guess it's Haymitch. Now that he doesn't drunkenly drag his feet, he and Peeta are difficult to discern from one another, but Haymitch's footfalls are more even than Peeta's, which makes sense since he can actually feel both his feet. I hear the springs of my mattress squeal as Haymitch sits on my bed.

"So who was on the phone, sweetheart?" Haymitch is the only one who knows how Prim really died. Who is responsible. He's the only one who will know why I'm hauled up in a closet again.

"Gale."

It takes a minute before he responds. I can't tell if he's trying to think of what to say, or whether he's debating saying anything at all. Finally he just sighs. "Oh." And after another moment. "I figured."

"Yeah," I say through the door.

"Yeah," he says back. I reach up, grab the knob, and push the door open. I stay curled up in the bottom. I'm not leaving, but at least now I can see him.

"I don't know what to say to him. I was better pretending he didn't exist anymore." I state while staring at the carpet on my bedroom floor.

"You can't pretend him out of existence."

"I can try," I scowl back.

"That you can," Haymitch replies.

"You know, I thought about putting him in the book," I confess.

"I thought the book was for dead people, Katniss."

"It is, but he feels dead to me. My best friend is gone. He's been gone since the firebombing. Honestly, he was gone long before that. I feel like I mourning who he was. That Gale is never coming back." I know I'm right.

"That boy was never who you thought he was." I give Haymitch a quizzical look. It's not like he and Gale were ever close. I think out of anyone, I know Gale better than Haymitch. "He was always an angry boy. He put what he thought was right ahead of everyone else's interests, including his own. You just didn't see it until 2, but the rest of us did. You kept seeing the boy you thought you knew, not who he was. I'm not saying he didn't care for you, Katniss. He did. But the revolution, this war… it was always in the front of his mind. It was always the most important thing. It was more important to him than you, than his family. He wanted to bring freedom to the people of Panem, no matter what the sacrifice was."

I let Haymitch's words sink in.

"And now that it's here, he has to live with his regrets. It's a lonely life, when you let vengeance drive you instead of…"

"Instead of love," I add. That's how it all started for me. All I ever wanted to do was keep my sister safe.

"But he got the result he wanted. The war is won. There are no more Games. The Districts are free from the Capitol. For once, Panem is working for the good of its people. And now he's realizing the consequences of his choices. Everyone else is free, but not Gale. He'll never be free from the blood on his hands."

"We all have blood on our hands," I spit back.

"But the blood of children? I know it keeps Effie up at night."

"Do you?" I smirk at him.

"Are you smiling? Are you smiling in your closet at my expense, Mockingjay?" Haymitch waits a minute. "Get out here." I do. I brush my hair, I go to bed. Haymitch goes for the lamp, but I ask him to leave the light on. He does, and he makes his way back downstairs. I hear him rustling around downstairs, muttering to himself in a hushed voice before he finally leaves. I don't sleep until the sun rises again.

After about two hours of restless sleep, I wake up. I do not feel right at all. And it's not Gale. It's not Prim. My body hurts. I'm freezing. I cough a little, and a burning sensation rips through my chest. I am sick. After a bit, Sae comes upstairs to check on me. I'm surprised it's not Haymitch, but she says he seems hungover. Haymitch hasn't drank since we got back, so I drag myself out of bed and make my way to the kitchen. Haymitch isn't hung over. Haymitch looks just like me.

"I'm sick," I say.

"Me too," he says. We don't eat Sae's food. She's not mad, she just packs it up and brings it to the Market. Haymitch and I find a couple spare blankets in the living room and wrap ourselves up. I plop on the couch, he collapses into the chair. We drift in and out of consciousness. I can't warm up.

Later that morning, Effie cheerfully bursts her way into my kitchen. "Well, Peeta won't be over for dinner tonight. He's sick as can be, poor thing! Oh! Well you two don't look so well yourselves."

"We're not," Haymitch groans from under the blanket.

"Well, if I'm playing nursemaid to all three of you, it would be easier if you were in one place. I'll go get Peeta." She flitters out the door, chiding under her breath, "Goodness, I was not cut out for this."

About an hour later Effie returns with Peeta in tow. He's wearing pajamas. His blonde hair is plastered flat on one side of his head, and his curls are wild on the other. He sits next to me on the couch. Effie goes upstairs and pulls a spare blanket from the linen closet. She wraps up Peeta and puts the kettle on the stove. She opens my mother's medicine cabinet and takes out 3 fever pills. She makes us each take one, and then hands us a cup of tea. I lay my head on the armrest and curl my feet in. Peeta mirrors me on the other side of the couch. Our legs are wrapped together, but I'm not worried about him misinterpreting anything right now. I'm not seductive, I'm a feverish mess. And I'm starting to feel sick to my stomach.

I ask Effie to bring me my plant book. I point out some medicinal herbs that should be growing in the Meadow. She seems appalled at the idea of digging in the dirt. I tell her to wear gloves, but all she has is satin and she certainly will not violate them with filth.

"You are all lucky that I'm here. Apparently I'll do anything for my little Victors!"

With that she flits out of the house. I'm not sure who she will corral into helping her, but I'm certain Effie will come back with the herbs. She will not, however, get dirt under her nails. While she's gone none of us move. Haymitch eventually turns on the TV, but I can't concentrate on it. Peeta moans softly in his sleep. I try not to vomit on my floor.

Effie returns with Greasy Sae. She has the herbs, which Effie grinds with a mortar and pestle. I didn't even know Effie knew what that was for. She steeps the herbs in tea, per the plant book, while Sae warms up a pot of chicken soup on the stove. The tea is forced down my throat, but I admit I'm starting to feel a little better. Not quite so out-of-it. I still feel awful, but minus the fever and with the pain slightly subdued, I can sit up and eat the soup. Peeta and Haymitch do too. Sae heads home, and Effie paces around the kitchen, tidying and fretting until we hear a crash.

Haymitch bolts from his chair and rushes into the kitchen. Effie is passed out on the floor. We feel her head. She is burning up.

"Stupid woman. Stupid stupid," Haymitch curses. "Come on, sweetheart. Come on, wake up." Effie comes to almost immediately, and looks woozily up at Haymitch.

"Mr. Abernathy, your breath is atrocious."

We all laugh. We force fever pills and tea and soup into Effie, and then I tell her and Haymitch to go upstairs and take my mom's bed. They oblige and make their way up the stairs slowly, leaning on each other.

"Come on," I take Peeta by the hand and lead him upstairs. He looks confused the whole time. I chalk it up to the flu, but at the top of the stairs he freezes, staring at Prim's door.

"I honestly don't think I can sleep in there, Katniss. I think I'd rather just stay on the couch." He says quickly, tripping over his words.

"Don't be silly. You are staying with me." I open my bedroom door and head in.

"I'll just go home, Katniss. It's fine."

"It's not fine. You are sick, and so am I. Let's just sleep."

He follows me into my bedroom. I decide to take a bath before bed and soak the sick out of my skin. I go into my bathroom and run the water. I look back out, and Peeta is already under the covers, sleeping soundly. I let my body soak for a while, then towel off, throw on some fresh pajamas, and climb in bed. Peeta is sleeping with his back toward me. I can't help myself, and curl up into him. My knees hook behind his, my face lays on his shoulder. I lay my arm across his waist and hold him for a long while. I doze off. I wake when Peeta stirs. I feel his body stiffen suddenly when he realizes I'm wrapped around him. I pull back a little, and he rolls onto his other side to face me.

"I think I should go downstairs," he whispers.

"Maybe," I whisper back.

"Katniss?" he says.

"Mmhmm?" I mumble back, my eyelids drooping.

"Can I kiss you?"

I'm wide awake now. I feel a pit open up in my stomach. It's not a bad pit, though. It's fluttery. Maybe it's the fever. I'm not thinking straight when I whisper back, "okay."

I wait for a second. So does Peeta. He slowly inches forward until our front sides are pressed together. I was just pressed along his back a few minutes ago, but this seems more intimate. His rests one hand on my waist, and his thumb slips under my shirt and slowly caresses the skin of my midriff. The other cups my face. I don't know what to do with my hands, so I leave them awkwardly at my sides. He rubs his thumb gently over my lips, and it reminds me how I used to rub the pearl on my mouth back in 13. He moves his face slightly forward on his pillow, and finally he presses his mouth onto mine.

His lips are on fire. It reminds me of kissing him when he was fevered during our first Games. His mouth moves slowly with mine, and I find myself reciprocating. My stomach is doing flips. He presses into my hip bone with the hand on my waist, and I moan slightly into his mouth. His eyes open and meet mine. Maybe it's the flu, but his eyes are such a pale blue it reminds me of fog. There is a hunger there - I feel like we are picking up from where we left off with that kiss in the cave, before my head started bleeding and he made me lay down. There is something stirring there. That kiss was real. This kiss was real.

This is not keeping my distance.


	11. Chapter 11

After a few days of rest, broth, and sleep, we all feel better. Haymitch and Effie eventually make their way back home, but Peeta stays with me. He sleeps on the couch. We work on the new book. We write letters to friends. We don't touch at all. Annie send us a picture of her new baby, and we decide it's time for a page we've been avoiding.

 _Finnick_. Finnick's death still feels so raw to me. I somehow deluded myself into thinking that he was invincible, but no one is invincible in the Games. No one is invincible in a war. A disproportionate number of my nightmares are about Finnick. His bronze flesh being torn from his body. Him screaming my name. Harder than those are the dreams that don't look like nightmares, but are. Dreams where we sit together tying knots. Where he teases me. Where he shoves my shoulder playfully. Where he scoops up Annie and I watch them twirl. Where we grieve together, where we're restless together, where we bicker like an old widow and widower who rely on friendly companionship to get them through the day.

I spend a whole day writing about Finnick. It inevitably drifts into a page about Mags, but they deserve to be together in this book. Mags gave her life for me and Peeta. So did Finnick. For an idea. For a world where the Games don't exist. Where his child won't be reaped. I feel guilty being here when he isn't. Peeta tells me about all the time he and Finnick spent together in 13. He tells me a story where Finnick flirted with Prim, and my little sister turned a thousand shades of red when he tickled her nose with the end of her braid. Finnick helped Peeta sort out the Quell. Peeta is also efficient at knots now. Peeta sketches and paints until he's captured every detail of Finnick's beauty. I capture his soul with my words. We clip the picture of his son to his page, and close the book for the day.

The phone rings and I flinch reflexively. I feel a rage boil inside me. I don't know who is calling, and I don't care. I grab my phone and rip it from my wall. I storm to my front door and throw it as far as I can. When I turn around Peeta is right behind me. I'm careful not to touch him as I try to dart around him to one side and then the other, but he steps in my path.

"Hey," he says soothingly, but I'm still too angry.

"Move, Peeta! This isn't funny!"

He steps forward and wraps his arms around me. I squirm and resist.

"Stop it! Stop!" I cry out and he holds me tighter. "No, I mean it Peeta. Stop!" I push him away. "We can't keep doing this. We need to move past this. We need to just be friends."

"Friends don't hug each other?" he asks.

"Not like this they don't."

"And friends don't… ask their friends to sleep in their beds? And kiss?" he asks, and I don't like it.

"Don't throw stuff back in my face," I spit.

"Well, it's just confusing, Katniss! You tell me to leave and pull me closer. You kiss my neck and then don't talk to me. You invite me to your room and then we don't touch for three days. What is that?" Peeta asks angrily.

"I just want it to be like how it used to be. When we were friends."

"How it used to be? I've been in love with you this whole time, Katniss! I've been in love with you on every step of this screwed up journey. Even when I hated you, I loved you. Do you know what that's been like for me? Do you know how confusing this is?" He's stepping away now, and my feet want to draw closer to him, but I know I shouldn't. I should shut up and take this. I should let him leave.

"I just want to be with you! Why is that so hard? It shouldn't be this hard anymore. There is no war. There is no Reaping. All that is done."

I nod my head.

"I'm going to kiss you," Peeta says, and takes a step forward.

"No," I say as I back up. I do the same dance we've been doing for years now.

"I'm going to leave," he says quieter.

"No," I say, but it's not a sound at all. And Peeta is out the door.

Good. Good. Right? Good. This is good. Then why am I shaking?

That night Peeta doesn't come over for dinner. Effie leaves to check on him - she's his guardian after all - and Haymitch and I eat in silence for most of the meal. As Haymitch uses the heel of his bread to soak up the last bits of stew, he comments, "So what did you do to the kid?"

I'm instantly confrontational. "What do you mean what did I do? Maybe Peeta did something to me."

He raises an eyebrow. "Not likely," he says as he stuffs the soaked bread into his mouth. "I've said it before, sweetheart. You could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve that boy." Haymitch calls it an early night and leaves me with my thoughts.

This is good. I clean the kitchen. I dry the dishes. I put them away. This is Peeta's chore, but I choose not to think about that. We just need a little distance, a little time. Peeta will get over things and then we can resume our friendship. I call it an early night too. I brush my teeth. I crawl in bed, but it smells like Peeta, and I'm instantly up and stripping the sheets from the mattress. I don't have extra, I'll just have to wait. I carry all the bedding to my laundry room and toss it all in the machine. Logically, I know there is too much in there. I know. But I'm too mad to act sensibly, so I stuff the whole lot in and press the buttons for soap and cycle, and before I know it the machine is rattling and water is spewing down my hall.

"Fine! FINE!" I yell at the machine. Buttercup gives me a sideways look and retreats to the first floor. I go downstairs, grab a blanket off the couch, go back upstairs, and sleep on my bare mattress with its naked pillows. Sleep is a generous word for what I do. Mostly I toss and turn and scream. My nightmares have never truly stopped, but this last week with Peeta here they'd started to subside somewhat. Instead, tonight I'm chased by mutts and unable to save Finnick. I watch him die in every way I've seen someone die. I watch him evaporate in a purple light. I watch him ripped to bits. I watch him incinerate in a bomb. I shoot him through the throat. I watch him consumed by poison fog. I watch him and I watch him and I wake up screaming.

This goes on for weeks. I never get new bedding or a new washing machine. I'm regressing and I can feel it. I stop showering, I stop caring. I let my nails and hair go wild. I don't come down for breakfast. I escape to the woods and spend hours wandering, and I come back with no game. I'm mad at Peeta. Just get over it already. Come be my friend. Haymitch tries to get through to me, but I'm not interested. Soon, I learn that Effie's assignment is complete. Dr. Aurelius has determined Peeta is no longer in need of in person supervision. She is scheduled to head back to the Capitol at the end of the week.

Effie comes to see me. I can she's worried, but if I can take anything positive from this, it's that Peeta must be doing better without me. They wouldn't send Effie away if he was regressing like I am. At least I'm self-aware. I just don't care.

"Katniss, I am truly worried about you." Effie reaches for my hand, but when she glimpses the layers of grime she pretends to tuck her hair behind her ear instead. She may love me, but cleanliness is next to holiness to Effie Trinket.

"Then stay." I say bluntly. I know it's not her job to take care of me, but I am a selfish person. Self-aware, but selfish.

"This isn't my home, Katniss. You know that. While I've loved being here, being part of a family, I need to rebuild my home too." I can't begrudge her that. The Capitol was ground zero to the siege, and we need people like Effie influencing what it will become.

"But what about Haymitch?" I ask. It's a low blow, but he can't be handling this well.

"A fish may love a bird, my dear, but where will they live?" I remember Haymitch calling her a fish out of water. She never really fit in, not really. But I don't think I can bear losing her again.

"How's Peeta?" I ask, looking out the window.

"He's doing as well as can be expected. He won't talk to me about it. He spends most his time locked upstairs painting."

I'm glad he's painting. Since our fight, we stopped working on the book. I think it's part of the reason I am struggling as much as I am. I also have no phone, so it's pretty isolating and I've missed nearly a month's worth of sessions with Dr. Aurelius. At this rate, I'll have a guardian until I die.

"Would Haymitch go with you? If he wasn't stuck here with me?" I ask meekly.

"I daren't ask. I don't want to begrudge him his answer."

We chat for a while. She brushes out my hair. She tells me that, even though she won't be in 12, I'm not alone in this. That I'm important to her, and to a lot of people. Not as the Mockingjay, but as Katniss. I tell her I will be there to see her off. She smiles and squeezes my hand. "Thank you, Katniss."

The morning of Effie's departure I clean up a bit. I shower and condition my hair so it falls like silk around my shoulders. I put on a sundress. It's been hot the last few weeks, and I want to look nice for her. I want her to think she's left some impact on me, because she has. I can't believe we've come this far. From making fun of her in the woods, to hating her for calling Prim's name, I am now in tears over the thought of not seeing Effie every day. I clean up my face. A lady doesn't make a scene.

I meet Haymitch, Peeta, and Effie at the entrance of Victor's Village. We all walk together to the train station. Effie makes small talk. Haymitch drags his feet. Peeta doesn't look at me. It's probably for the best.

"Well, this is it!" Effie exclaims as an attendant loads the last of her bags onto the train. "Now let me look at you, my Victors!" She holds out her arms and Peeta and I embrace her together.

"Mr. Abernathy." We let go, and Haymitch sweeps Effie into his arms. He squeezes her hard and lifts her off her feet.

"Don't be a stranger," he whispers to her.

"You know I won't," she says back. Still plastering a smile on her face, wigged, painted, and looking like her old self, Effie Trinket boards the train and leaves District 12.


	12. Chapter 12

The walk back to Victor's Village is a melancholy one. Peeta and I are both thinking the same thing. We are worried Haymitch will relapse. He shouldn't spend all this time alone.

"Do you want to play chess, Haymitch?" Peeta asks.

"Well, if the kid hasn't come out of hiding," Haymitch retorts with some bitterness to his voice. Peeta knows it's not meant for him. It's meant for the whole situation. I wonder if he'll start to resent me. Or Effie.

"Why don't you come in the woods with me?" I ask.

"Ha!" he guffaws. Clearly not. "Look, kids, I appreciate you trying to keep the old man on the straight and narrow, but the two of you have been keeping to yourselves lately. Don't let me stop you." He closes the door to his house and leaves the two of us on his doorstep.

"Hi," Peeta says.

"Hi," I say back.

"Well, I should probably get going. I've missed most of my morning baking, and I haven't even started the batch for Sae to hand out at the Market today." Peeta tries to excuse himself, but I grab his hand as he starts to pull away.

"I miss you," I confide. I know I shouldn't, but I am unable to help myself.

"Good," he says, and pulls away again.

"Good?" I ask. "What does that even mean?"

"It means I'm glad you miss me." Peeta replies with a confusing casualness to his voice. He reads me like a book, because he adds cryptically, "I'm not the one with something to get over, Katniss."

"Oh really? So you're over it? Over me?" I ask. I feel my stomach drop. This is not what I expected relief to feel like.

"Oh hell no. You're not the one waiting here, Katniss, I am. I'm waiting for you to get over it. To get over whatever wall it is that you've built up that's keeping you from me. I've been waiting a long time. I'll keep waiting." He turns to walk away, but after a few steps he turns back. "You asked me once to stay. I meant my answer. You know where to find me." Peeta walks up the front steps of his house and closes the door behind him. I hesitate at mine.

I feel exposed in my dress. I wanted to look nice for Effie, but I'm feeling naked in the sun with my legs shaved and nothing but a flowy drape held on by straps as thin as Beetee's wire. I catch my reflection in the glass pane of my front door. I look pretty. I don't want to look pretty anymore. I open the front door to my house and am immediately on guard when I realize someone is there. I reach for an arrow instinctively, but find my back bare of weapon. I peer into the kitchen and am stunned to see Johanna Mason bent over, rummaging through my fridge.

"Ahem…" I clear my throat and she spins around, chewing an apple from the bushel on my counter. "Well there you are, stupid. We thought you'd be home since your door was unlocked."

"We?" I ask. Without a sound, Gale slips into the kitchen.

"Hey there," he says. I glare at him.

Johanna babbles on as if I can even hear through the fury boiling inside me. Something about them coming in on the train, an escape from the Capitol. How she wasn't really here to see me anyway, but wanted to catch up with her comrade-in-pain, the lovesick puppy from District 12. She bites the apple and holds it in her mouth. She takes both of my hands in hers, and says through the cortland clamped in her teeth, "Lovely to see you darling." With that she skips out of my house, presumably to Peeta's, and I'm left standing in my kitchen with the man that killed my sister.

"I tried to call, but…"

"You need to go," I interrupt. I feel even more naked than I did before in this stupid dress. I feel like Gale is looking right through it, like I'm completely exposed. He shouldn't be in my house.

"We are staying in the vacant house 2 down."

"We?" I ask, with the accusation just dripping from my teeth.

"What? Me and Johanna? Oh god no. Ha. No." Gale replies.

I stare at him.

"Where's Peeta?"

I scowl. "We're not seeing each other right now."

"As in you're not dating, or…" The look on my face clearly gives me away. "Oh, you aren't even seeing each other." His eyes get a little too hopeful for my liking, and I shove him toward the door. "I'll go but, I'd really like to see you later. Maybe we can talk? Just think about it," he says before exiting my home. I run upstairs and change. I return to my kitchen and lock the door. That night I see Johanna and Gale at Haymitch's house. I know he and Johanna have shared a friendship for a long time. They were the black sheep of the Hunger Games mentors, and he's always found her rough-around-the-edges antics both funny and charming. It's probably good he's not alone. I hear them laughing and making a raucous until I head up to bed. I look out my window and see Peeta's lights are out. I let myself doze off.

I'm awoken by a distant screaming. I assume I'm waking from a nightmare, but as I come to it gets clearer and louder and immediately recognizable. It's Peeta. The lights from his house are still out. I don't hesitate. I race across my lawn wearing a nightshirt and nothing else. The grass is dewy after the heat from the day has burned off, and my feet are soaked when I reach his door. I am relieved to find the it unlocked, and I slowly creep my way into his house. Peeta is not in his bedroom. This is not a nightmare. Peeta is in the middle of a full-fledged flashback. I've just walked into a pitch black house with Mutt Peeta.

All of my senses are immediately on edge. There is a current in the air, and I can feel the rage pulsing through the walls. I know I need to pull him back, but if he's too far gone I may not make it out of here. It's too late to keep him from slipping, he's gone already. I don't call out his name. I don't want to send him on the hunt. Instead I peek around the corner. My eyes have adjusted somewhat and I can make out his frame in the living room. The couch is flipped over. He's covered in what I first think is blood, but I quickly realize is red oil paint. He's pacing and panting and heaving. I can see my Peeta trying to make his way back, but the Mutt is winning.

I know what brought this on. Peeta hasn't slept since our fight. He is devastated over Effie leaving. He is lost about us. And he saw Gale coming out of my house. That's just too many emotions and not enough sleep. He was on edge already - any little thing could have been the final trigger. I assume it was something in his studio, but at this point it doesn't matter. I need to bring him down. I hear him ranting.

"There was blood everywhere. It was raining blood and Johanna was choking on it. How did she get all that blood?"

He's not making sense.

"She killed everyone and they sprayed it all over the Arena. It's my father's blood. It's Cato's. She'll kill me next. She'll kill us all. I have to stop her before the next rainfall."

He grabs a chair from his dining room table and hurls it across the room. It splinters into pieces on the floor. He screams again, and it reverberates throughout the house. Everyone in Victor's Village will be up soon. Peeta clings to the edge of his table and his eyes roll back into his head. He's fighting this. I can see him forcing his way back. He drops to his knees and lets out a strangled sob. This is my chance.

I come around the corner, exposing myself to him. Peeta is shaking violently. When he looks up I see his heart break in his eyes, but the eyes belong to Peeta. They are blue and they are wild, but they are mine. He's trying desperately to cling to this reality. His face fills with fear, and he manages to get out, "What are you doing here? Run! RUN!" I think back to our Games, when I was delusional on tracker jacker venom and Peeta told me to run from Cato. It was the moment I realized he was on my side in the Arena. Well, I'm on his side now.

I drop to my knees with him and say, "I'm not running anywhere. Look in my eyes."

He forces his eyes to mine. He's slipping.

"Not real, Peeta. What you are seeing is not real. This isn't blood, it's paint." I swirl some of it between my fingers and show him. "I am right here." I run my fingers through his hair. I try to anchor him to reality. "We are in your home in Victor's Village. See? This is your table. Smell the scent from the kitchen? Breathe in with me." I cradle his face in my hands while he breathes in. "It smells like cinnamon. And dill. Smell it?"

"...Yes…" he barely gets out.

"I'm here with you. This is real. Me and you and the cinnamon and the table. My hands on your face. This is real."

His entire body shudders and Peeta collapses into me. I stroke his hair and he grabs onto my waist. This episode is over. I keep running my fingers through his curls, and his breathing steadies. We are a tangle of limbs. The red paint streaks my bare legs as he clings to me. I sing a low, soft lullaby. He's asleep in seconds. It took a lot out of him.

The voice from behind me doesn't startle me. His silent entrances should hardly be surprising after years in the woods. "Does that happen a lot?" Gale asks.

"Not a lot," I say, "But sometimes."

"This isn't safe for you."

"Haymitch keeps a tranquilizer in case things get really out of hand," I reply.

"This wasn't out of hand?" Gale asks, looking at the bits of broken chair.

"No."


	13. Chapter 13

The next morning, Haymitch finds me at Peeta's after coming up empty handed at my house. At some point during the night we transitioned to the couch. We sleep - me laying on my back, Peeta nestled between my legs with his head resting on my chest. My hands rest on his head. I wake when I hear the front door, but Peeta is dead to the world. He's exhausted and could be like this for hours.

"Morning," Haymitch greets me with a mug of coffee in his hand. He doesn't look great. His hair is disheveled, he's in last night's clothes... I realize my guardian is hungover.

"Haymitch, you didn't…"

"Johanna had this green liquor from the Capitol. I only had a couple. I guess my tolerance isn't what it used to be."

"Haymitch, green liquor is illegal! You know that! It makes you see things!" I'm whispering furiously.

"You don't have to tell me that," he groans as he rubs his head.

"You are going to land me with a new guardian if you keep this up! They won't trust you with me." Peeta stirs, and I gently rub his back. He squeezes his arms around my waist and settles.

"I thought you two weren't talking." Haymitch gestures sloppily toward me and the sleeping boy.

"We're not."

"You're right. That doesn't count as talking." He rolls his eyes at me. "Can I get you anything? Coffee, magazine… doesn't look like you're moving anytime soon."

"Not unless you can go to the bathroom for me." I tease.

Haymitch smirks at me. "Dinner?"

"Dinner."

He leaves and we lie there for a while. I doze in and out, but eventually I'm awake. I reach for a catalog from Peeta's coffee table. He has circled different baking items - flour, sugar, butter by the pound. I find the pages with horticultural products interesting. I've always scouted for greens and herbs in the meadow or woods, but maybe I should start a garden. Our peaceful morning is interrupted when the phone rings too brightly. Peeta comes to and stretches to get up.

"Don't," I say as I wrap my arms around him, keeping him from the phone. He looks a little confused.

"Katniss, why are you here?" I can see the revelation of last night hit him like a ton of bricks. He is instantly on his feet, but his face scrunches in pain.

"What? What is it?" I am on my feet now too, feeling guilty. I didn't realize he was hurt.

"It's nothing… It's just my leg." I realize he never took it off last night, and I was too distracted to do it for him. He limps to the chair and drops down.

"Let me help," I offer, and squat on my knees in front of him. His pajama pants are loose, and I can easily roll them up to his thigh, where his prosthetic meets the remainder of what used to be his leg. I can see the skin underneath is raw. My fingers hover, and heat is radiating from the wound. "Oh, Peeta, this is more than one night."

"I haven't been sleeping. I just forget." He looks at the wall.

I place my hands on the release. "Can I?" I ask. He nods his head and I release the prosthetic. His face visibly shows relief. The stump is worse than I thought. There isn't any sign of infection - it's not tight and shiny, and there's no pus, but his leg is raw and open.

"I need to go home," I say, and I can see the disappointment cross Peeta's face. "For some herbs and medicines," I add. "I'll be right back." I cross to the door and realize I'm wearing nothing but a long t-shirt. I'm going to look like one of those poor women making their way back home from Cray's. I turn back. "Could I, maybe, borrow some pants?"

Peeta flashes a grin. "Sure." He gestures to his stairs and I bound up them. I mean to go directly to Peeta's room, but his studio is at the top of the steps and the door is ajar. I use my hunter's grace to sneak in. The small room is packed with canvases. The colors are vibrant. The paintings each differ so much. Some are symmetrical and have a clear methodology laid out. In others the brushstrokes sweep and flow freely across the canvas. Some are violent and jagged. The scenes vary as much as the styles. A serene painting of Prim nuzzling Buttercup. A potent image of Thresh, his face mangled and swollen, lying dead among the tall blades of grain. I'm everywhere. My brow is furrowed as I hover Gale, unconscious and wounded on my kitchen table. I'm on the roof of the tribute center, my head resting in Peeta's lap. I'm washing blood from Wiress's hair.

Then I see it. What he must have been painting last night, when things went wrong. The image is of the bakery. On the left is how I will always remember it - windows adorned with beautiful cakes, Prim's face pressed against the glass, his father peering out at her from the other side, smiling. As my eyes move right, the bakery is engulfed in flames, and by the time my eyes reach the other end, nothing is left but a pile of burnt rubble. His bakery has burned to the ground. As did his father. As did Prim. Beneath the canvas is broken glass. He must have smashed the glass he soaks his brushes in. Red paint is everywhere - the floor, streaking the canvas, the walls, the window. It looks like the scene of a horrific crime. In a way, it is.

I back out of the room slowly and close the door. I head to Peeta's bedroom, which, unlike mine, is neat as a pin. I open his bottom drawer and dig out a pair of pants. They hang off me, but my legs are covered. I run back downstairs and out the door. As I'm walking to my house, I see Johanna sitting on my steps.

"You locking me out now, Mockingjay?" I forgot I locked my door, and I certainly didn't bring my key with me when I flew to Peeta's last night.

"Locking me out, too. Wanna help me break in?" She snickers in delight and we survey the building. Johanna picks up a rock and looks intent on smashing one of my windows when I grab her wrist. "Preferably with minimal property damage."

She scowls and drops the rock. We find the window over the sink slightly cracked, and Johanna hoists me up as I force it open and pull my body inside. My kitchen is empty for morning. I picture Sae whisking a pan over my stove. I picture Haymitch and Effie side-by-side on the kitchen stools. I see Peeta at the table, doodling in the corner of the crossword. Instead, I unlock the front door and Johanna bursts through. She leaps up and plops herself cross-legged on my counter. She takes a blade from my knife block and starts twirling it around like the homicidal maniac she is.

"Those," she gestures with the knife, "are _not_ your pants." I feel my face flush as Johanna cackles. "Oh poor Gale. He kept going on last night about how you and Peeta weren't even speaking, like he had some sort of chance with you." I'd take her empathy more seriously if she weren't giggling through it all.

"I don't even know what Gale is doing here," I respond.

"Trying to make amends. Beats me what for," she says back. "Either way, he said he wanted to come see you, and I've missed my lovebirds desperately. Plus, you don't pick up the phone when I call." She pouts at me, and I restrain myself from ripping her bottom lip off her face.

"In case you didn't notice, it's nothing personal." I gesture to the wires protruding from my wall where my phone used to be. She laughs even more.

"Look, give Gale a chance to just talk to you. He told me about Prim, and honestly Katniss, he may have hatched up the idea but he had no idea Coin would actually use it. He's devastated. He loved her too, you know."

"Don't try to make me feel bad for him." I focus on what I'm doing here and open my mom's medicine cabinet. I locate the ointment I'm looking for. "Look, I have to get back, but maybe you and I could have dinner tonight or something."

"Sounds like a date, Mockingjay," she sing-songs back to me.

I roll my eyes, but before I leave my house, I look back to her and implore, "Don't give Haymitch any more alcohol."

She blows me a kiss.

"I mean it." With that I'm out the door. I meant to change but I've already been gone longer than I meant to be. The heat from the day has descended around us, and it's desperately muggy. I'd love to go drift in the lake for the whole afternoon, but I don't see that opportunity presenting itself. Inside, Peeta has turned on some fans but they've done nothing to dissipate the heat. His face lights up when he sees me.

"This should help a lot. My mom got it from Madge. It's from the Capitol." I bend forward and rub the sticky ointment into Peeta's leg. He sighs with relief, and my stomach does a little somersault.

"That feels nice," he adds, smiling at me. He leans back and closes his eyes. "Did you and Gale talk?" His eyes are still closed, and he's acting like it's no big deal, but I know better.

"I have no interest in talking to Gale. He shouldn't have come here." I put the jar of medicine on the table.

"I don't know what happened, Katniss, but he was your best friend. Maybe you should hear what he has to say."

"You're my best friend, Peeta," I say back, and I mean it.

He smiles. "I did say _was._ So what do you want to do today? I think I'm gonna be stuck in this chair."

"I want to make a page. For Madge."

I write most of the afternoon. I've missed the book. I write about Madge and Mayor Undersee. I write about her mom, and how she never truly got over the loss of her sister. I used to be so cynical about her - about my mom. People that are weak. But I can see now how someone can fall into a darkness that isn't easy to overcome. Madge's mom lost his sister. I feel almost like I'm carrying that pain for the both of us now. Peeta draws Madge holding a basket of strawberries. She's smiling shyly at her dad. It breaks my heart, but in a way it helps me heal. When Haymitch shows up, he looks at our work and is quiet for a long time.

"This is where Maysilee's page should go," he says.

"Absolutely," I say as I take his hand. Peeta's phone rings again. Now that both Haymitch and I have ripped our phones from our walls, it could be for any of us.

"I'll get it," I say as I cross the room. At least I know it's not Gale. "Hello?"

"Katniss Everdeen, I have been gone for less than 48 hours at that place is already in shambles. SHAMBLES!"

"It's for you," I say and hold out the receiver for Haymitch.

He picks up the phone, and Effie continues on, oblivious to who or what is on the other end. I hear her high-pitched shriek from across the room. The longer her diatribe continues, the higher the resonance in her voice. Haymitch just grins the whole time.

"Are you gonna shut up for one second and let me say hello? Don't you breathe, princes?" I hear him manage to get in, before another flurry of atmospheric squealing continues.

"Remind me not to squeal," I say to Peeta. He laughs. "Don't get mad, but I invited Johanna for dinner."

"We should probably ask Gale," he says back.

"Ugh, why?" I reply, rolling my eyes. Peeta gives me a crooked smile. He doesn't want Gale and me to fight, but he can't help but like it just a little.

"Because what's he going to do, Katniss? Sit in his house alone?"

"Okay. Well, I need to go get some things for dinner anyway. I'll just stop by and ask him."

"Good," he smiles at me. He looks so much better than last night. Haymitch is still on the phone with Effie when I take off. I cross the street to the vacant house Johanna and Gale are occupying. All the houses are furnished and powered. We offered to have some of the residents of 12 move into them, but they've all refused. I knock on a front door that looks identical to mine, and Peeta's, and Haymitch's. I stare across the way at Effie's. I know it's not hers anymore, but to me that's Effie's house. It's identical to her door too. When I turn my head back, Gale is already standing in the doorway.

"Hi," he greets me with a shy smile. I want to smack it off his stupid face.

"Do you want to come to dinner?"


	14. Chapter 14

After Gale accepts my dinner invitation, he offers to walk me to the Market. Along the way we are stopped by old acquaintances and friends. I'm grateful we don't have to talk to each other. Thom finds us perusing some eggplant. He and Gale hug each other tightly, patting each other's backs. Thom's wife is expecting a baby, and they moved back to 12 to raise their child. He holds a watermelon to his belly to show us how big his wife has gotten, and earns a dirty look from the woman running the stand. We part ways, and suddenly it's just me and Gale.

"Catnip," Gale grabs my hand and stops me.

"I don't want to do this here," I say back.

"But you do want to do this?"

"Can we just go back and make it through dinner and take it from there?"

"I'll take it," he says.

When we reach Victor's Village, we stop at my house so I can change before heading back to Peeta's. Johanna is already there, and we catch her punching Haymitch in the arm as we enter the house. Peeta is back on his feet. He assures me my mother's ointment has worked wonders, but I know part of this is keeping up appearances with Gale. He doesn't know that Gale saw him last night, wrapped around me on floor, shivering and heaving. While we were out, Peeta made some garlic knot bread, which, while it smells delicious, has left the house sweltering. Only a Mellark would run the oven in the dog days of summer. I simmer tomatoes on the stove and slice the eggplant. Peeta tosses some spices in the pot - oregano, basil, thyme. I fry the eggplant in a skillet on the stove. I add onion and peppers, some summer squash. I let everything simmer in oil until the vegetables are tender.

Peeta scoops everything into a large serving platter. He places a green salad on the table, the bread, and the eggplant concoction. Johanna sits in Effie's seat. She doesn't know that. Gale sits between Johanna and me. Dinner starts out pleasantly enough. Everyone is courteous and polite as the food is passed around the table. Within a few minutes though, Johanna is throwing food and Haymitch is laughing so hard he almost chokes on his bread. The evening is relaxing and I make eye contact with Gale as we are both losing it over Johanna's impersonation of Caesar Flickerman. She is interviewing each of us and asking humiliating questions, like forced game of truth or dare that none of us can weasel our ways out of. I feel like I have my friend back.

As the evening draws to a close, Gale hovers at the doorway while Johanna makes her way back to their house. Peeta and Haymitch are inside at the table - Peeta tidying up and Haymitch supervising. Gale leans against the frame and his smoky gray eyes meet mine. "Can I walk you home?"

I look back at Peeta, who feels my eyes on him and smiles at me as he continues to talk to Haymitch. _I am home._ But I can't say those words aloud, so I just manage, "I'm not going home." Gale's face hardens a little and he nods his head and ducks into the summer night. Haymitch heads out soon after. Peeta and I are left standing in the kitchen, washing dishes.

After he dries and cares for the last plate, he turns to me with a grin. "Tonight was fun, huh?"

"Yeah," I smile, relieved. "Although I can't believe you admitted your dad's secret nickname for you was Peety Piper," I tease as I finish wiping off the table.

"If nothing, it was a compliment to my piping skills on the cakes!" he exclaims.

"Sure it was…" I laugh and throw the rag at him. He charges me and wraps his arms around my waist, lifting me into the air. I squeal as he starts poking at my sides.

"I thought you said Katniss Everdeen doesn't squeal." I'm struggling to breathe through the laughter. This is a normal moment, like normal people have. I like it. Peeta's smile drops and his face becomes serious. His eyes drop to my mouth. I feel my stomach flip and I know where this is going. If I'm going to stop this, I should stop it now. The backs of my legs are pressed against the table, and he slides his hand along my face. He hooks his fingers in my hair and sweeps it back. I can feel his heart pounding, and mine is matching in full force.

I pull myself up onto the table and he settles between my legs. This is eerily like the office, and I think we are both there in our minds. He drags his mouth down my neck, and my breathing quickens. My hand runs up his back and neck until it finds a home in his curls. I tug them lightly and squeeze Peeta's hips with my legs. He lays a trail of featherlight kisses from my collarbone to my jawline. He pulls his face forward and his mouth hovers inches from mine. He leans in closer, but his lips are still just ghosting my own. It's not enough. I pull him into me to close the space, and his mouth crashes into mine. This kiss is different than any of our others. There is an urgency to it, a heat that is burning in my stomach and shooting flames throughout my body. I pull his hair a little harder and he hooks his arms under my legs. In one smooth motion I am laying on the table with Peeta is on top of me, one leg propped between mine, kissing me like I may never let him again.

His tongue traces my lips and I open my mouth slightly to let him in. This only intensifies things, and I am pulling at his body trying to get it flush with mine. His tongue dips deeper into my mouth, and I can feel a soft sigh escape my lips. Peeta breathes into my mouth and it drives me wild. He shifts the leg between mine up, and when it presses into me a loud moan escapes my lips. Peeta pulls away and looks at me. His lips are swollen, his eyes are bright and wide, and there is a smile plastered across his face that I can't help but mirror back to him. My hair is spread around my head on the table, and Peeta can't stop looking at me. I blush under his gaze.

Peeta stands up and helps me off the table. I straighten my clothes and run my fingers through the tangles in my hair. Peeta blushes and tucks a loose strand behind my ear.

"I'm wide awake," he laughs.

"Me too," I say. We head into the living room and lay our heads on opposite armrests. I remove his prosthetic, and our legs tangle comfortably together. We talk for hours. I tell him about my adventures in the woods. He tries to convince me there is a difference between cake flour and regular flour. I don't buy it. We talk about Haymitch, and how he will do here without Effie. We speculate about Johanna and Gale. Gale's eyes seemed to be on me most of the night, but we both caught Johanna watching him during dinner. We take bets on when Thom's wife will pop, and the gender of the baby. I tell Peeta I'm thinking about a garden, and he is really excited about the idea.

When the conversation lulls, Peeta's mind starts drifting. I know where he is going, and I try to keep him here with me. He pulls himself up. "Katniss, about last night…"

"Don't," I say. I sit up and hug my legs to my body.

"I don't really remember a lot about it, which means it must have been bad."

"It wasn't that bad, Peeta." I try to comfort him, but he isn't interested.

"You shouldn't lie to me, Katniss," he says resignedly. After a while, he whispers , "Did I hurt you?"

"Oh no. God no, Peeta. You didn't hurt me. You hurt a chair, but you've got 5 just like it so, I think we can manage." I try to joke but he's not interested.

"This is why I was trying not to be alone with you. If things had gotten away from us…"

I cut him off before he can finish. "If I had been here earlier, it never would have gotten as far as it did." Most of the time, when Peeta has a flashback, it only lasts for a minute or two, and he still has a grip on reality the whole time. It's exhausting for him. The blood drains from his face and he'll sleep for hours afterward, but that's usually the extent of things. This was the first time he'd fully lost control since coming back to 12. "If I had been here, things would have been easier to hold on to. You could have talked to me. I would have kept you grounded. It was my fault for pushing you away for weeks. And Effie leaving. It was all of it."

"Katniss, I..."

"Don't apologize to me again. You didn't do this. Snow did. And he's gone now, and we can just get through it together. We keep each other safe. Let me keep you safe."

Peeta nods his head. The night is finally getting to us, and his eyes are closed now more than they are open. He leans back again, resting his head on the armrest. This time I crawl forward and lay my head on his chest. It's like last night, but in reverse. He tangles his fingers in my hair, and as he starts to doze, he whispers, "I like you here."

"Me too."


	15. Chapter 15

The following day is absolutely beautiful out. It is the quintessential summer day. It's the kind of day you dream about in the dead of winter. Peeta drags an easel and some paints outside. Haymitch and I sit on the porch, arguing over whether he should cut his hair. At this point it's skimming his shoulders. "You look like an ugly woman, Haymitch." He chuckles at me and sips his coffee.

Johanna is sprawled on the grass of the lawn. Gale sits next to her, tossing little stones into a bucket a few yards away. We've all been too lazy to do anything all day. I would have hunted this morning, but I was worried Gale would trail me into the woods so instead Peeta showed me how to make muffins with the blueberries I picked in the Meadow. I pretended to pay attention, but really I just watched his hands as they mixed the batter. He scolded me when I scooped my finger in the bowl and then stuck it in my mouth.

"It's sweet. It's almost like cake batter." I flash him a smile in an attempt to get out of a lecture.

"It's got raw eggs in it, Katniss. Do you want spend the night throwing up? Because I certainly don't want to spend it holding your hair," he retorts.

I scowl instead. "Who said I'd let you hold my hair?" I turn on a heel and greet the outdoors. Hours later, I watch him painting. The sun makes his eyelashes almost translucent.

"Like the view?" Haymitch elbows me. "Here, let me find a napkin so you can wipe that drool off your face."

I stick my tongue out at him and get up. I cross over to Peeta to see what he's painting. I drape my arms across his shoulders and he nuzzles into the crook of my elbow. Our foreheads meet, and I mouth, "Hi."

Peeta mouths "Hi" back. He's still unsure if he's allowed to kiss me outside. In front of people. I'm unsure too, so instead I stand up and tousle the blonde mop on his head.

"You need a haircut, too." I say. I see Gale watching us out of the corner of his eye. I'm trying not to be cruel, but he's the one that showed up here. I'm not going to change my life to spare the feelings of the man who is the reason my sister isn't alive.

"Will you add Prim?" I ask Peeta, looking at his painting. "Twirling in the sun?"

He smiles at me, "Absolu-" Peeta's face drops. He looks as though he's seen a ghost. His eyes are feral, tears streaming down his face as he falls backward trying to escape.

"Peeta, what's wrong?" That's when I see it. With the flit of a wing, a tracker jacker dives into Peeta's arm. I feel like I'm watching in slow motion as the adrenaline takes over his body. The rest of our crew is just now realizing what's happened as Peeta falls to the ground. No amount of soothing words are going to keep him here with me. This is biology. Peeta's wild eyes flash up and in an instant he's on top of me. Not like last night. Not lingering his mouth on my jaw. Fists start flying. He's clawing at my face as I am screaming and kicking and trying to pull away.

I've seen Peeta take out a dozen Peacekeepers, but now Peeta is surrounded by 3 Victors and a war hero. There is no end to this where someone isn't seriously hurt. Gale reaches us first and latches on to Peeta. He thrusts backward with all his might, but Peeta swats him away as if he were a sack of flour. Gale flies to the side, rolling on the ground. Johanna dives for Peeta's legs, which is smart. She's always been a brilliant fighter. If she can manage to take out his prosthetic he'll be much less mobile, but he brings a knee to her face and her nose bursts with blood. I manage to pull myself away from him. Maybe I can draw him somewhere safer, and we can trap him until he comes down. I watch Haymitch reach for the tranquilizer darts in his back pocket just in time to see Peeta to collapse on the ground.

"Did you shoot him?!" I cry out to Haymitch.

"No!" he says back.

I run for Peeta, but Gale grabs my waist and pulls me back.

"LET GO OF ME!" I scream. Elbows are swinging and I crack him in the rib. Gale's arms fall from my sides and I reach Peeta. I turn him over. His face is covered with dirt. He's not breathing. He's not breathing. "HE'S NOT BREATHING!" I'm flashing back to Finnick, pumping Peeta's chest and I do the same. I have no idea how fast or how many times to do this between plugging his nose and breathing into his mouth. My lips on his, but not like last night. My hands are on his chest, but not like last night. I'm desperate now, sobbing and pumping and screaming at him. "You said you'd stay with me. STAY WITH ME!"

Johanna is at my side. "They're sending a hovercraft. Just keep going."

I set everything aside and focus. Breathe. Pump. Pump. Pump. Pump. Breathe. Pump. Pump. Pump. Pump. I feel like hours pass, days, centuries. My mouth on his. Breathe. Pump. Pump. Pump. Pump. Suddenly a silence surrounds me. The birds have stopped singing, and a hovercraft descends from the sky, landing in the street between our houses. My mother comes running out, followed by a medical crew. She reaches Peeta and me and drops to her knees.

"How long has he been down?" she asks. I can't answer. I can't stop. I just keep pumping. "Katniss, how long has he been down?!"

"15 minutes, maybe 20?" Johanna answers.

"Okay, we're gonna take him from here." My mom inserts herself between us and I'm a lunatic. Gale holds me back and I beat his chest and sob.

"I'm coming with you!" I cry out.

"You know you can't do that, sweetheart. You can't leave 12," Haymitch takes my arm. At that, I'm rabid. I'm clawing and beating and biting and punching my way toward Peeta, but the medical crew loads him into the bay of the hovercraft and take off. We are left there in its wake.

The sun is beaming in the sky. The birds resume their song. The wind is a gentle breeze that flows softly through my hair. The clouds are puffy and white. My glass of lemonade perspires on the porch. The primroses fill the air with a sweet aroma. Children laugh and play in the distance. The earth is turning and the tides are shifting and time is pulling forward...

And Peeta is gone.


	16. Chapter 16

I wasted so much time. I spent so many nights fighting my demons alone. Leaving Peeta alone. Keeping him at a distance.

I'm sitting on the edge of my bathtub as Johanna washes the blood off my face with a cloth. She reset her nose herself, because she's Johanna, but now she's turned her attention to me. She's never been particularly maternal, and comforting words escape her. Instead she just cleans my face. She grabs a blade and trims my broken nails. She runs a shower, and we both step inside. There's an intimacy in our friendship that I've only known with my sister. I know she is still petrified of water after _her time in the Capitol_ , but she washes my hair and runs my head under the faucet until all the soap has swirled down the drain. There's no talking. There's nothing to say.

Johanna dries herself off and helps me out of the shower. She runs a towel over my body and through my hair. She brushes my hair out and weaves it in a braid down my back. She digs through my drawers, finds an old t-shirt, and pulls it over my head. I'm not here. I see her. I feel her. But I'm not here. Johanna leads me to my bed and pulls a sheet over me. It's too hot and sticky for a blanket, but she lays on top of the sheet next to me. Her cropped hair dampens my pillow. I don't care. I don't care about any of it. She reaches out and takes my hand.

"I got you, stupid," she whispers.

The next morning, Haymitch and Gale are already in my kitchen when we come down. Gale is working on installing my phone back on my wall. He tells me that he hasn't heard anything from my mother yet. He's the only one with a house that has a phone. I take our group in. My face is swollen and my lip split. Johanna's nose is bruised so badly it reaches her eyes. Haymitch sips on his coffee with his head down. Gale's arm is in a makeshift sling Johanna finagled from a kitchen towel. Apparently Peeta nearly ripped his shoulder from its socket. Not Peeta. The Mutt.

The hours drag on. I rest my head on the kitchen table. Johanna lays hers on the table, too, and faces me.

"Did you have a sister, Johanna?" I ask. Johanna never talks about her family. I know they were butchered by the Capitol in an attempt to earn her compliance, but if anything it made her rebellious streak swell.

"Yeah, I did," she says quietly. "She was nine. Her name was Poppy." A tear escapes from her eyes, and she just lets it fall to the table.

"You can be my big sister if you want," I say in a hush.

"Okay, Mockingjay." She squeezes my hand.

The phone rings and I'm up out of my chair in an instant. "Hello? Hello?"

"Katniss, dear." It's Effie. I was expecting my mom. I don't have an update to give her. I tell l myself not to rip the phone off the wall again.

"Peeta's alive," she says.

"He is?" I choke out through a sob. I slide down my kitchen wall and drop to the floor.

"He's not out of the woods yet. Your mother hasn't left his side. That poor thing hasn't slept at all," she says. All I hear is he's alive. Effie continues on, "I lied and told the doctors I was still his legal guardian, so they are keeping me up-to-date on everything. I flew to 4 immediately after Haymitch called." I didn't even know Haymitch called her. "Dr. Aurelius will be here in a few hours. The doctors here believe that the tracker jacker venom sent Peeta's system into cardiac arrest. He had so much of it during," she gulps, " _his time in the Capitol_. He is lucky he didn't drop dead right there!" I sob into the receiver. "Oh Katniss, I'm sorry. They said his ability to tolerate the toxicity of the vemon has been compromised after his hijacking. His system is so debilitated that it's not able to form an adequate response to the toxins, and instead it started shutting down. They've got him on an intravenous drip of a new antidote, and they are re-oxygenating his blood per Dr. Aurelius' instructions. At this point we just have to see if he responds." I'm not able to formulate a reply. I just cling to the receiver. "Your mother says you probably saved his life, Katniss. And I'll be right here with him. Your mother and I won't leave his side."

"Thank you, Effie."

"Of course. I'll call as soon as Dr. Aurelius gets here."

I update everyone through a mess of snot and tears. We make camp in my house. Haymitch takes my mom's room. I'm sure it makes him miss Effie. I think you really have to love someone to get sentimental about the flu. Gale takes the couch and Johanna sleeps with me. The first day is quiet. Johanna locates a jigsaw puzzle in one of the closets and dumps the pieces on the table. Sae drops off a giant vat of stew. Thom brings us a basket of eggs from his chickens. That night, when the phone rings, I'm expecting Effie.

"Hello?" I say.

"Katniss. It's Delly. Delly Cartright?" I don't know that I have the energy for this. "Peeta hasn't called me in a few days," she says. "I hope you don't mind me calling. I'm just getting worried."

"Oh. Yeah." I knew he called her almost every day. I should have thought to reach out to her already. "Listen Delly, Peeta's in the hospital in 4." I explain to her what happened.

"Don't worry, Katniss. I'll be right there," she says.

"Oh no you don't have to…" the receiver clicks. "...Do that." I look out to the room. "Well, we are expecting a visitor."

That night we sip tea and put the puzzle together. It's a serene picture of a forest. Johanna, Gale and I each find solace in its quiet setting. Gale gets a phone call from Paylor about business from 2, which is awkward for everyone. Effie updates us that there is no change. Dr. Aurelius is there now. Peeta is still under. In the morning, Johanna is scrambling eggs when Delly arrives carrying a suitcase larger than her body. It barely fits through my front door.

"Welcome to the saddest party you've ever been to," Johanna says in a deadpan.

Delly drops her bags and rushes across the room to me. I'd expect I'd want to push her away, but when she wraps me in a gigantic hug I just sink into her arms. She cares about her best friend. Everyone here cares about Peeta in a different capacity. Even Gale, whose relationship with Peeta can best be described as rival, will never forget the day Peeta stood between him and Thread's whip.

Delly keeps our spirits from spiraling down. She is habitually effervescent. She brought us books and puzzles. She even stopped at the sweet shop on her way from the train station and acquired loads of candy. The one thing we all want - white liquor - remains prohibited from my house. Haymitch wants to be here for this. I almost laugh watching Delly try to interact with Johanna. Two more different people could not exist in the world. That night, Gale gives Delly the couch and takes the floor. Prim's bed is off-limits.

Our crew remains this way for nearly a week. Effie calls frequently, but the news is never any different. The doctors are starting to whisper about brain damage when they think Effie's is out of earshot, but they don't know her proclivity for gossip. She passes along everything she hears, even when it's not good. I appreciate her candor. She's never been tactful, but at least she's honest. Dr. Aurelius has been making adjustments to the antidotal serum. He's optimistic. I try to be.

Later that night, I sneak downstairs to the kitchen after everyone is asleep. I want to be near Peeta, and I can't. I curl up on the mat in front of the oven. I'm wearing a shirt he left at my house a few months ago, but it still faintly smells of cinnamon. I barely hear him coming, but Gale makes his way into the kitchen and slides next to me on the floor.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asks. I shake my head no. My nightmares have kept the whole house up at different points throughout the week, but tonight I couldn't even get to sleep. He keeps his voice low to avoid waking Delly.

"I never understood how people had the strength to do this part." I don't have to explain. Gale gets it. "When someone was brought to my mother and she couldn't give them any answers… how did they not lose their minds waiting? I'm losing my mind, Gale."

"I know," he says.

I rest my head on his shoulder. He leans his head on mine. We sit that way for a long time. Every day he's here my anger seems to dissipate a little. There are so many more important things in this world than resenting Gale. I think of the weeks Peeta and I spent not talking, not touching. I'm wasting time with Gale not being friends.

"I know you didn't mean to hurt anyone," I whisper.

I hear Gale swallow the knot in his throat.

"I meant to hurt people. I didn't mean to hurt Prim."

He's being honest with me. He's always been honest with me. I think back on what Haymitch said - that I never really knew Gale. I don't think that's true. We have the same roots, we just grew in different directions. I reach my hand into his lap and intertwine my fingers with his.

"I forgive you anyway."

Gale turns his head and presses a kiss into my hair. "Thank you, Catnip,"

"I just didn't expect this. I've spent most of my life thinking I could lose anyone I love at any moment. But with the War over, I guess I just settled into this place where I thought we were all finally safe. And then something stupid like this happens and he's just gone." I muffle my sob with my hands. I rage against the randomness of it all.

Gale wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into him. "He's going to pull through this, Katniss. He's been on the brink so many times, and he always makes his way back. Believe me, I find it really annoying, but the man doesn't quit."

I want to believe him, but I don't know anymore.

"Peeta's coming home to you."


	17. Chapter 17

The next morning, Johanna is tracing the trees on the completed puzzle with her fingers. It's been almost ten days that we've been hauled up in my house.

"Let's go to the woods," Johanna says. I don't like the idea of leaving in case a call comes in from the hospital. Johanna reads this on my face. "Haymitch can stay here. Just for a couple hours, to clear our heads."

After some persuasion, I finally agree. I am going crazy staring at these white walls. I don't want to be here anymore. I want to be somewhere else. I want to be in 4, but I'll take the woods. We pack some food and water and take off. Delly asks to come and we oblige. For a perky little sunflower, she manages to stay quiet when she feels it's warranted. She's hurting too. Even sunflower people hurt.

Gale and I lead Johanna and Delly to what's left of the fence. We cross into the woods, and immediately I feel my lungs involuntarily sigh in relief. This is where I belong. I look at my hunting partner, and he already knows what I'm thinking, because out here, we've never needed words. We head to the lake.

When we come on the clearing, Johanna's face breaks into a smile. She feels at home here too, in the woods. Being from the lumber district, she's spent her life among the trees. They are old friends. She's more calm than I think I've ever seen her. Johanna picks up a fallen leave from the forest floor and glides it along her face.

I forget that Delly's been here before. When the refugees from District 12 fled, Gale led them to the lake. She didn't really get to experience the serenity of this place, huddled in a mass of starving, broken people, waiting for an absolution they weren't sure even existed. The last time she was here, she was grieving. It didn't take long to realize her family hadn't made it out. For Delly, the lake isn't the happy retreat it's always been for me. It's a place of sorrow.

She walks up to the water's edge and twirls a finger in the water. "I've always wanted to learn to swim," she says wistfully. I look at Delly and take her in. She wants this to be a happy place. She wants to heal, to find the solace in the water and air the way she sees the rest of us do.

"Now's as good a time as any," Gale says, and pulls his shirt over his head. I laugh aloud when I catch both Johanna and Delly staring at Gale's physique, jaws dropped.

"Careful, you might swallow a bug," I tease. Delly blushes and claps a hand over her mouth, Johanna gives me a death glare. I smile.

I just smiled and laughed. It feels weird.

When Gale turns his back away from the girls, the scars Thread's whip left, ugly and jagged across his back. I hear Delly gasp, and Johanna just looks sad. I squeeze Delly's hand. We all have scars. Some are just more visible than others.

I strip down to my underwear and glide into the water. The cool lake feels like heaven on a hot, summer day. I take a few strokes out, lie on my back, and float. Water covers my ears and the world around me is muffled. I float and peer up at the sky. I think of Finnick, how the water invigorated him. I think of the Morphling, lying in Peeta's arms in the water, staring up at the sunset. Peeta's words bringing her peace in her final moments. I can't think about that.

I start swimming back to shore with a lazy, slow stroke. I see Delly splashing around as Gale laughs playfully.

"You're doing great! Just keep your chin up! That's great!" I remember how three or four years ago Gale wouldn't have even looked at Delly. He resented the people in Town, although I think most of that resentment eventually shifted to the Capitol. They wanted us divided. He understood the walls between us were fabricated by Snow to keep us weak. He claps his hands in encouragement as Delly makes it a few feet before sinking.

"I did it!" She stands up and shouts. "I swam! Did you see?"

"I did!" Gale smiles. That's when I see her. Gliding like a snake in the water, Johanna is stalking Gale. Just her eyes are above water, and she is coming up closer, and closer… Johanna seizes the opportunity with Gale distracted and pulls his legs out from under him. When Gale resurfaces, she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him under. He comes up sputtering water, with a devilish grin on his face.

"Is that how we are going to do this?" Gale coughs, and dives directly for her. Johanna has lost the advantage of a sneak attack. Her only hope is to evade Gale, but as he splashes around in the water, he finally grabs a hold of her. He picks her up over his head as she kicks and screams and bites. He throws her back into the water, and the splash ripples its way to shore. She comes up grinning, and that's when the great splash war begins. Delly and Johanna team up on Gale. I sneak up from behind and defend my friend. I'm careful not to set Delly off balance in the water, but Johanna is fair game. In short order we are all panting and laughing.

We make our way to shore. Johanna hops on one foot trying to get water out of her ear, while Delly quickly covers up. Johanna has no qualm walking around with her wet underclothes clinging to her body. I catch Gale watching her out of the corner of his eye and I find myself smiling again. We are an odd little family.

We eat our sandwiches while we dry. Everything in the last ten days has felt like paste on my throat, but in this moment I appreciate the sharp cheese and apple.

"When Peeta comes back, we'll have to bring him out here," I say.

The others looks at my in shock for a minute, and then Delly smiles. "Definitely. He'd love it." We dress and hike back to the house. We talk, reminisce. Johanna weaves a bracelet by pulling the stems from leaves and twisting them into knots. She ties it around Delly's wrist, who smiles brightly. As things come into view, I see Haymitch on the porch. He's with someone. I drop my bag and take off sprinting toward the house. As I get closer I see he has Effie wrapped in a comforting embrace. She looks up at me. I can tell she's been crying. I feel like the world is opening underneath me. Like a cavern is going to swallow me whole.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"Oh, Katniss," she says as she reaches out to me. I push past her and run into the house.

Propped up with some pillows on my couch is Peeta Mellark.


	18. Chapter 18

I remember what I felt when Peeta was brought back to 13 after the raid on the Tribute Center. I remember wondering what to say. I remember feeling elated and light-headed. I remember wondering if he'd kiss me… hoping he'd kiss me. I remember how it ended - with his hands crushing my neck, trying to choke the life out of me.

"Peeta." I'm cautious in my optimism. I'm on guard. It's not until I lock eyes with him and see they are clear as the gleaming water of the lake.

"Katniss?"

He's so close and yet the distance between us feels like miles. I rush toward him. He looks awful - he's thinned some, and his head is almost entirely wrapped in bandages, but I don't care. I'm crying and he's kissing me everywhere. My hands clasp his face and I bring his mouth to mine. I sob into his mouth, "I thought I lost you."

"Okay kids, let's take it easy." Mom? I look up and see my mother standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding a laundry basket. "Katniss, is your washing machine broken?" my mom asks.

"Mom, what are you doing here?" It's not that I'm not happy she's here, but I'm a little overwhelmed in the moment.

"I'm here to take care of Peeta," she replies.

"I can take care of Peeta." I am unnecessarily defensive. I should just be glad to see my mother, but I'm irrational in the deluge of emotions I'm feeling. Elation over Peeta's return. Guilt that I wasn't here when he got back. Envy that she's finally decided to return to 12, but it's not to take care of me. There is no reason for me to lash out at my mother, but I can feel the indignation steep inside me, growing more potent with each passing moment.

"Katniss, Peeta has been through a lot and he needs professional care. I volunteered to do so - I imagined you'd both prefer a familiar face to having a stranger here," my mother rationalizes.

Of course she's right, but I'm still biting and aggressive in my tone. "I've taken care of him before. In the cave. And in the jungle. I can handle it."

"Katniss," Peeta speaks up. It startles me. I look back at him and my anger slowly dissipates. "Maybe you should listen to your mom."

The house begins to fill with our crew. Delly is the first through the door and is screeching, screeching, in joy. She is leaping up and down and chattering a million words a minute. Johanna kisses Peeta smack on the lips and slaps his cheek.

"Don't scare me like that again," Johanna berates him. Peeta's face is instantly filled with concern. While most of our wounds have healed since Peeta left, Johanna's broken nose is taking the longest to mend. She's much less swollen, and the bruising has yellowed, but it is obvious something terrible happened to her face.

"Johanna…" Peeta's fingers ghost over her bruises, remorse heavy in his voice.

"If you make a big deal out of this, I'll break your nose back and ruin your pretty little face," Johanna threatens him. I'm not sure she is kidding.

"Alright everyone, gather round! Please find a seat!" Effie begins shepherding us together, ever the escort. Haymitch takes the chair and pulls Effie into his lap by her waist. She bats at his hands, but her enormous smile reaches her eyes. Delly sits on the floor in front of Peeta. Gale takes the armrest of the couch, and Johanna noisily drags a chair in from the kitchen. She straddles the back and rests her chin on her hands. "Listen up, children! Mrs. Everdeen quite a lot to say!" Effie harps.

I look at my mom with some worry in my eyes. Peeta squeezes my hand.

"Well," my mother exhales. She's never liked being the center of attention. She clears her throat and begins. "When Peeta arrived in District 4 he was in severe cardiac arrest. The adrenaline triggered by the tracker jacker venom had caused his heart to fail. However, Dr. Aurelius has developed a new antidote and we were able to purge the venom of the sting from Peeta's bloodstream." We all sigh in relief. "Once Peeta was fully stabilized, Dr. Aurelius performed a number of brain scans. Peeta's had numerous scans since his hijacking and Dr. Aurelius has been tracking the impact to different areas in his brain. Most of his observations up until to this point were restricted to what was left of Peeta's original conditioning or an episode triggered by external stimulus. Dr. Aurelius has never been able to scan Peeta's brain so close to an actual injection of venom."

I know she can see the glazed over looks on our faces. All of this is over our heads. She continues anyway. "In the latest set of scans, Dr. Aurelius was able isolate the area of Peeta's amygdala that was in hyperdrive during his episode. Areas of Peeta's dorsal and ventral prefrontal cortex were completely vacant of synapses. These areas guide rational thought and moralistic decision-making."

She can read the room. We are all lost. "Dr. Aurelius was able to identify how the over-stimulus in the amygdala mapped to Peeta's violent and aggressive behavior and was able to dissect that connection surgically."

I look at Peeta's bandaged head. There are no tufts of blonde peeking out from underneath. "You had brain surgery?" I ask.

Trying to ease the panic he can hear in my voice, he says, "Barely. It's just a tiny hole, the size of a pea."

"So what does that mean?" Gale asks. "Is he cured?"

"Unfortunately, no. Continuing his therapy will help, but Peeta will likely always suffer from confused memories, flashbacks, and dissociation with reality."

"Then what exactly did you do?" Delly asks.

It's quiet for a moment.

"They killed the Mutt." I say. My mother smiles.

"Yes. From now on, when Peeta has these episodes, they will continue to be debilitating, but he will not express himself through violent and aggressive behavior. That pathway has been permanently severed."

Everyone is stunned into silence it sinks in. Suddenly, Haymitch leaps up from his chair. "WOO HOO!" he cries out as he spins Effie in the air. The tension breaks, and everyone is laughing and hugging.

Gale claps Peeta on the shoulder and says, "It's good to have you back, man. The women around here are starting to outnumber us."

I sit back for a moment with Peeta and watch the room. This is our family. Effie and Haymitch, dancing in a circle to music only playing in their heads. Delly clapping and jumping up and down, her blonde curls bobbing around her head. Johanna, sticking her tongue in her cheek and saying the surgery has "ruined all the fun" but not meaning a word of it. Gale laughing at Johanna and sneaking a glance my way. My mother, calm and serene, with a half smile creeping across her mouth.

I look at Peeta. The last piece of our family jigsaw puzzle is finally here, and we are complete. "Welcome home," I say. I've never seen a bigger grin.


	19. Chapter 19

After dinner, my mother insists everyone go back to their own homes. Peeta needs his rest. Johanna and Gale return to their house. Effie goes to Haymitch's. Delly takes one of the rooms at Effie's. Her old home, like all the homes outside of Victor's Village, was destroyed in the firebombing. She hasn't gone into Town yet. I can't blame her. She lost her entire family in the bombing. Only a few of the merchants made it out. Gale thinks the Capitol targeted the bakery first. Delly's family was only two shops down. I try not to blame myself, but I think the blood of District 12 will always stain my heart.

After redressing Peeta's bandages and doing some quick reflex exercises, my mother retires so her room. I can tell she wanted to say something before she left as she hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, but she just turned away.

"You really didn't need to go have brain surgery to get my attention," I whisper.

"I've been trying for years to get your attention, I thought this would finally do it," he teases back. We lie on the couch together for a while in the dark. I listen to his heart thud in his chest. He feels me breathe. It's platonic and intimate all the same. I play with his hands, running my fingers along his. He twirls his fingers lazily in my hair.

"I missed you," I whisper.

"I'm glad," he whispers back.

Peeta takes my hand and brings it up to his lips. They are soft and dry. He presses a chaste kiss on my knuckles. The kisses trail down the length of my fingers. He kisses the flat of my palm, and my stomach whirls in excitement. I pull his hand to my mouth and kiss his palm back. It reminds me a little of our time before the Quell.

 _We stand outside the door to my room. The day on the roof has only reaffirmed my decision to keep him alive in the arena. Peeta lives. I know he'd lose it if he knew what I was thinking, so I only say, "What should we do with our last few days?"_

 _"I just want to spend every possible minute of the rest of my life with you," Peeta replies._

 _"Come on, then," I say, pulling him into my room._

 _Peeta doesn't have pajamas. He offers to go back to his to get them, but I worry the door will lock behind him. "It's fine," I say. We go to the bathroom to get ready for bed. He swishes a minty mouthwash through his teeth while I brush my hair. I try my hardest to get him to laugh - poking his sides and tickling his neck, but he manages to keep it together until he spits the rinse into the sink._

 _"You are awful," he says. I give him a devilish grin._

 _We retreat to the bedroom. I dozed off for a bit on the roof, and I'm not really all that tired. Peeta looks out my window and down at the people on the street._

 _"The Capitol looks alive from up here. Like a living, breathing thing." I look down and can see what he's saying. The energy below almost beats like a heart. The crowd ebbs and swells like the city is inhaling and exhaling. The tiny people look like they move as one, part of a colony where the parts make up the whole. I want to kill it. I pull the curtains closed harshly. Peeta looks at me._

 _"Let's not think about them tonight. For once, let's just be you and me, and not worry about the audience," I say. He smiles shyly and nods._

 _I crawl in bed and Peeta joins me after removing his leg. We lay on our sides facing one another. "I don't want to be with anyone else when we are in there," I say, referring to the Arena. "Just you and me."_

 _"Okay," Peeta says, and a weight lifts from my chest. Just me and Peeta. He reaches down and takes my hand in his. I've always found his hands fascinating - the way they knead bread, they way they pull a brush across a canvas, or the way they tuck a stray hair behind my ear. I pull his hand up to my mouth and press a kiss into his palm. It's meant to be a friendly kiss, but I can feel the air tingling around me. Peeta inches himself closer to me, and I don't pull away. He pulls our clasped hands between our faces and kisses my hand back._

 _Peeta's lips linger, and my body is alight. I pull my hand from his and begin tracing his face with my fingers. I draw my hand along his cheek. I curl it behind his ear and trace his jawline. He breathes out a ragged breath, and I know I'm not being fair, but I have so few moments left in my life. I want to memorize what his jaw feels like before I lose my fight to stay alive. I creep closer still, and avoid his eyes. My fingers continue from his jaw, across his cheek, and lightly cross his lips. I can feel his blue eyes on mine, but I just stare at his mouth as I trace his mouth with my thumb. He pulls forward still. My thumb rests flatly on his lips and he presses our mouths together. We aren't technically kissing each other - my thumb is between our lips - but we kiss as if it's not. I can't feel his lips, but I can feel his breath on mine. I can feel his body pressed into me. He's right there._

I wanted to drop my hand that night, but I couldn't. I was crippled with fear. It was like kissing him, but not. Now I'm laying with my head on his chest, and I prop myself up on an elbow look up at Peeta's face. He looks so much older than he did then. His time in the Capitol aged him, as did the War, and the Arena. It did me too. I take my fingers and trace his face. He leans into my hand. I brush my thumb along his lips and I feel his eyes on me. This time, I meet them. I lean forward and kiss him, my thumb in the way again. He kisses back, but this time he grabs my wrist and pulls my hand away. His mouth is on mine fully now. I can feel the heat of his lips. His tongue darts out and caresses my bottom lip. I open my mouth to let him in and his tongue is dancing with mine. We are both panting into each other. I pull myself on top of him and trail kisses along the jawline I'd memorized so long ago. He moans softly into my hair and I cover his mouth.

"Shhh… my mother." For the first time, we feel like a couple of teenagers. I feel him smile against my hand and we both end up giggling. Peeta is near tears laughing when we hear my mother at the top of the stairs. I roll off Peeta and curl back into his side. I close my eyes and try to wipe the smirk off my face. I can feel his chest hiccuping in suppressed laughter. I sense my mother over us and his chest stills. We both feign sleep as she feels his forehead and cheeks, checking for any sign of fever. She makes a few minor adjustments to his bandages and sneaks back upstairs. We both burst out laughing.

Breakfast the next morning is raucous. After weeks of tension and stress, we finally feel like we can breathe. Gale is losing it laughing as Johanna impersonates Delly trying to swim. Delly is blushing and smiling, but is still beaming with pride when she tells Peeta she swam a whole three feet by herself.

"It's true, I saw it," added Gale. "And she was much more graceful than Johanna is giving her credit for." Delly smiles gratefully at Gale.

Peeta is stationary in a kitchen chair, with all of us buzzing around him. Delly brings Peeta a third helping of pancakes, and he groans.

"I can't do any more, Delly. I'm going to burst," he whines, rubbing his stomach.

"You are a tiny thing and you need to eat up!" Effie chimes in. This is the first time many of them have seen Effie wigless. I hope they didn't expect her to act as different as she looks, because sans make-up Effie is still as uptight and regimental as ever. Her hair falls simply at her shoulders, and for the first time I see Gale interact with her like she isn't the outcast of our group. He crosses to Peeta's seat.

"I'll take care of those, Peet," Gale says and picks up the plate, shoveling the pancakes into his mouth. I watch as Johanna tries to steal a bite from his dish and Gale stabs at her fingers with the fork playfully. She smears some maple syrup on her finger and threatens to thread it through his hair. Gale takes off and they chase each other around the kitchen.

"I think we are going to need to separate those two," Haymitch winks at me. A loud crash indicates Johanna has knocked something over, and I can see my mother trying to restrain herself from scolding everyone in the room, when Effie takes care of it for her.

"Johanna Mason! A lady does not chase men around the house!" Effie decries.

"Well, in case you missed it, Effie, I'm no lady." Gale bursts out laughing. I don't think I've ever seen him laugh as much as I have in the last couple of days. He looks nice smiling. Much less like the fiery, angry man I'd grown apart from.

"Well, one can aspire to greater things," Effie concludes. We all help clean up breakfast except for Haymitch, who I don't think knows how to clean. I wonder how Effie can stand being at his home, but the smell has improved dramatically since he stopped vomiting on the floor.

That afternoon Effie and Delly sit on the porch gossiping like schoolgirls. Gale and Johanna have disappeared on a hike into the woods. Peeta is sleeping inside after the commotion of breakfast wound down. My mother is upstairs in her room.

Haymitch and I sit a ways off, watching Delly and Effie whispering. Had the fate of geography not separated them, I think Effie and Delly could have been thick as thieves. I could see Effie guiding Delly through manners and appropriate dinner discourse and fashion, and Delly thriving in it. Effie looks back at us and smiles. She really is stunning when she's not hiding under make-up.

"I don't think you're alone anymore, Haymitch," I say.

"Not even if I wanted to be," he says back.

I suspect this time, Effie is here to stay.


	20. Chapter 20

Peeta's condition steadily improves. His hair is slowly coming back in, and he wears a cap most days. My mother spends more and more time up in her room. Gale's phone is off the hook with calls from Paylor's administration. He's wanted back in 2, and I can tell he's delaying. Effie, however, seems to be settling in. She and Delly have redecorated their house. It is atrocious. I didn't know that many doilies could exist in one room, but I've learned they can. Effie tells me she is bringing elegance and refinement to our tiny little village. I think the her house looks like it vomited frills, but I just smile and nod. Peeta cannot stop laughing as he watches me "admire" the porcelain doll Effie ordered Delly from the Capitol. It's… breathtaking. Delly could take one of the vacant houses in Victor's Village, but I don't think she wants to be alone all the time. Effie spends most of her nights at Haymitch's anyways, so it works out well.

The summer burns on, and we decide to have a bonfire. Peeta is obsessed with making marshmallows for roasting. He tries to describe them to me, but I can't imagine how they wouldn't just melt into the fire. You can't put sugar on a stick, but he insists you can. "I just need to find the right gelling agent," he mutters as he flips through his family's books. It keeps him busy.

Johanna spends the day in the woods chopping trees. I don't think I've ever seen anyone wield an axe with with such proficiency and glee. I remember her burying an axe in Cashmere's chest. Did Cashmere know about the rebellion? Was she on the wrong side of things? Or was she just trying to survive? I shake my head and try not to focus on that. Johanna prattles on about the different types of wood and how best to make a fire. She chops felled logs as she looks for something dry and hard.

"Do you miss home, Johanna?"

"No," she says without even a thought. I smile a little. I'm selfish, I know that.

That night, we all gather behind Haymitch's house. Gale and Johanna are bickering about appropriate log placement. Johanna threatens to shove a branch where the sun doesn't shine if he doesn't leave her alone. He puffs his chest.

"Is that a threat?" Gale asks.

"It's a near certainty if you don't move your skinny ass away from my fire," she retorts, staring him down.

Soon the blaze is roaring. Peeta puts one of his marshmallows on a stick and is beaming with pride when it comes away from the fire golden brown. "My lady," he says, and offers me the confection. I pop it in my mouth, and it melts.

"This is divine," I say, and kiss him. Our fingers are sticky as they weave together, and I can feel the looks we are getting. I don't kiss Peeta in front of people, but right now I don't care. I smile into his mouth, and he sucks the sugar from my bottom lip.

"So you like it?" he asks.

"I like it," I say.

"You two are going to make me puke," Johanna says, and hurls a pine cone in our general vicinity. I scowl in her direction.

The marshmallows are very popular. Delly and Peeta camp out on the grass near the fire. She's eaten about five marshmallows, and now she sits cross-legged, chatting Peeta's ear off about a boy she's been flirting with at the Market. He grows watermelons, and I think I remember seeing him next to the woman who berated Thom. I zone out. Delly has grown on me, but I have a limited level of tolerance for the high-timbre of her voice that was exceeded minutes ago.

Peeta and I decided that tonight we are going to share the book. It was meant to be private, but this unusual group of people has become our family. I grab it from the porch and walk to the fire. I gather everyone's attention. As they face me, I look around the fire. Effie is whispering into Haymitch's ear. Delly is laughing at Peeta as he exaggerates the size of a watermelon he recently bought by stretching his arms around her. Johanna leans her back into Gale's chest. He rests his chin on top of her head. This may not be the family I pictured myself with, but the bonds forged in pain and suffering are as thick as blood.

I explain the book. Everyone gathers a little closer. I open it to a random page. Boggs. I read aloud. "Boggs had a sense of humor hidden under his carefully guarded exterior. His eyes were mischievous, and while he was the consummate rule-follower, he ultimately let his heart guide his actions. His selflessness and bravery were paralleled only by his devilish good looks, which he managed to mask behind an absolutely hideous but precise military haircut." I go on to read the stories recounted by Peeta and me. In the end, I pass the book around and they all look at the accompanying portrait. Gale clears his throat. I knew this one would be hard for him. We all sit around the fire and tell stories about Boggs. Haymitch recounts the time Boggs picked him up after he was released from the rehabilitation center. He assumed Boggs was only there because he was ordered to go, but when he arrived Boggs shook Haymitch's hand and looked him straight in the eye. It gave him some of his dignity back. Gale tells the story about how he broke Boggs's nose kicking him in the face, and how Boggs covered for him with Coin. Johanna recounts how Boggs pushed her to get through training. His faith in her never wavered.

We repeat for Rue, Mitchell, Seeder, Wiress, Madge, Portia, Chaff, Foxface, Darius, the Morphlings, Cinna, even nameless people - the old man in District 11, the red-headed Avox girl, the boy from the hospital in District 8. We spend hours on Prim and Finnick. With each, we share stories. We remember. We grieve. We move on to people not in the book. Delly talks about her mom. Johanna tells us that Poppy used to sneak in her bed at night and wake Johanna to warm her icicle feet. Effie remembers a cellmate who kept her sane during captivity, and how one day she woke up and the woman was gone. Effie is sure she was executed, but she's refused to ever find out definitively. She doesn't want to know. Gale tells a story of beating his dad in a snowball fight when he was seven. He realizes now he didn't actually defeat a full-grown man, but he remembers bragging about it all night to his mom. Recounting the blow-by-blow, the cunning moves that led to his father's defeat. Peeta just says, "I miss my mom." He doesn't elaborate more than that. We all know they had a complicated relationship and leave it alone. Haymitch tells us about one of the youngest tributes he had to mentor. He remembers finding her asleep in a train car with her thumb in her mouth. He drank himself to oblivion that night.

"When my husband sang, the birds stopped singing." My mother's voice floats on the night wind. We turn around and see her standing over us, tears welled in her eyes. I don't know how long she's been there, and we all sit quietly a moment. I take a breath, and sing for my mom. A song my dad taught me that I'd long forgotten.

 _When a man suffers loss of limb_  
 _A phantom is left in its place,_  
 _That stings and pains and tortures him_  
 _And makes the nights too long to face._

 _But now that you are gone, my love,_  
 _A phantom hand is holding mine._  
 _A phantom hand is holding mine._

 _And now that you are gone, my love._  
 _A phantom hand is holding mine._  
 _A phantom hand's in mine._

I remember my dad singing that song to me in the woods. He grabbed my hands and spun me around until I begged him to stop. We fell to the ground, both dizzy, clasping hands and trying not to throw up. I feel my dad's hand in mine now, the ghost of what once was. I cross to my mom and hold her for a long time. We sway. I let the years of anger and resentment slip away. I whisper, "It's okay to go now, Mom. You don't have to stay."

The next morning, she is already gone when I wake up.


	21. Chapter 21

It's raining out. Peeta and I sit in the doorway and watch the world drench. It's quiet today. The last few weeks have been so emotional, I think we all need a little time to process. I'm okay with that. I am slowly healing. Even when I fight it, the rawness of loss scabs over. I can think of Prim and smile. I know she would want that. I still wake up screaming in the night, reaching for her. I still sob into Peeta's arms and beat my pillow with my fists. But in a warm rain, I can see her dancing in puddles across the yard and I feel happy for a moment. Prim was here. She changed things. She changed me.

Peeta and I haven't known what do with each other now that we are alone. I'm still so scared of every step we take forward, but I keep pulling us along. Peeta lets me lead. He's so happy all the time it's almost obnoxious. He's no longer afraid he's going to murder me in my sleep, and it's freeing. Sappy Peeta is back in full force. I know other girls would swoon, but most of the time he just makes me roll my eyes. The difference is now, I know I am where I belong. I just need to stop fighting myself and let it happen.

Peeta decides to bake. I plop on the couch and lazily flip through a catalog. My eyelids grow heavy and I can feel sleep pulling me under. I doze in and out for much of the afternoon. Peeta wakes me up and reminds me it's our turn to make dinner. I drag myself off the couch and prep a salad while he tends to the actual meal. Buttercup rubs against my leg. I don't kick him. That's an improvement.

Before we know it, the family starts piling in. Haymitch and Effie arrive first. Effie cannot stop chattering about the espresso maker she bought Haymitch. He doesn't complain about it, which means likes it. Haymitch and I sit at the table and watch as Effie lovingly bosses Peeta around the kitchen. I think it's funny since Effie couldn't cook her way out of a water boiling competition. Peeta bites his tongue and shoots me excruciating looks every time he catches my eye. Delly arrives with a basket of strawberries and fresh whipped cream. I remember Madge. I hope that I can keep the people I lost alive like this. Remembering them fondly when I taste a strawberry or hear a summer rain.

I steal a strawberry from the bunch, and Peeta teases me. "You're going to spoil your dinner." He wraps his arms around my waist. I squirm away but give him a smile. Despite the sugary marshmallow kiss, I'm still not much for public affection. He gives me a small smirk and returns to dinner. He doesn't read more into it. We don't need words to talk anymore. It's comfortable. I like it.

Our perfect little reverie is ruined when Johanna slams through the door. Gale is in tow, and misses the door smashing into his face by inches. Johanna is a firecracker - happy, angry, or sad. Every emotion for her is like a live wire. She doesn't rant, she rages. She doesn't cry, she sobs. Nothing is halfway for her. Whatever fight we've just been brought into, I feel for Gale. Gale matches her fury head on. He burns just as brightly and they fume at one another.

Johanna crosses the room and begins to talk to me as if Gale doesn't exist. She intentionally places her body between the two of us. Gale talks to Delly and shoots death glares back at Johanna. The tension doesn't ease any with dinner on the table. We all sit and chew our food in silence. No one dares breathe a word. Gale reaches for a second dinner roll, and Johanna stabs her steak knife into the table only a hair from his hand. Effie and Delly leap back in response. The Victors just keep chewing. Gale stares her down, but Johanna doesn't even blink.

"Well, I never!" Effie exclaims.

"That's not quite true, Effie. The girl did it to me on the train," Haymitch winks at me.

"That's mahogany!" Peeta impersonates her, and it lifts the weight in the air. Effie gives him a dirty look, and then fails to restrain a smile. The regular dinner chatter begins.

We continue for a few minutes until Johanna declares over the din of noise, "So Gale is leaving tomorrow."

I drop my fork. "What?" I look at Gale.

He looks at his hands. "I have to go back to 2."

"And what, you just weren't going to tell any of us? I only know because I overheard him on the phone with Payload." Johanna writhes.

"Paylor," Gale says with ice in his voice.

"Whatever. You were just going to sneak out of here like a thief. Like none of us mean anything to you," she spits back at him. "I can't even look at you." Johanna pushes her chair back from the table, grabs a strawberry, and crosses into the living room.

"I was going to tell you all tonight," Gale says to the table. I am a mess of emotions. I was so angry when Gale showed up to my home unannounced, but now I don't want him to go. I've been reveling in our Sunday hunts, wordless and comforting. A part of him is always in the woods with me.

"It has to be tomorrow?" I ask quietly. We stare at each other across the table. He is my oldest friend. I am still dealing with my mom leaving again, and the thought of another crack to our fragile family dynamic makes it feel like the walls might come down.

"Yeah." We all finish dinner quietly. We try to be cheerful, but it won't stop tomorrow from coming. I think back to how Gale looked when he first came back to 12. He didn't belong. His clothes were crisp and new. His haircut was precise. His frame knew no hunger. He wasn't from here. Now, weeks later, his hair has grown back to it's shaggier state. He wears what's comfortable. He provides. He's part of us.

Everyone retires home except Johanna. She's too livid to be in the room next to Gale's. I ask if she wants to sleep in my mom's room, but she just throws herself on my couch. Peeta and I head upstairs. The storm outside has shifted. Instead of drenching summer rain, the sky has opened up. It falls in sheets lit by lightning. Thunder is at a near constant low rumble. Peeta opens the window like every night and lies beside me.

Peeta drifts off quickly and curls up on his side. I hear the front door creak and I'm immediately alert. At first, I just hear the peaks of muffled whispers, but before too long Johanna is practically yelling. The front door slams and she's out in the rain. I move to the window and can see Gale chasing after her. He catches her elbow and she turns and beats his chest with her fists.

"Let me go!" Johanna screams at him.

"Come with me," Gale begs with an earnestness I've never heard in his voice.

"Why would I do that?"

"You know why."

Gale leans forward and tries to kiss her, but she slaps him dead across the face with all her might. Gale falls back, reeling.

"Don't you do that! Don't you dare!" Johanna screams at him. The rain pelting down is unforgiving. Every bit of her tiny body is soaked, and you can see her muscles glistening in the sheen of the rain. She looks beautiful, her eyes burning like a warrior. She is ready for this fight. "It's easier to say you never loved me, so just say that instead. Make this easy for me, Gale."

"I can't," he breathes into the night.

"Yes you can. Say it. Say 'I never loved you Johanna.'" Her words cut through the rain and bury themselves in Gale's chest.

"I can't," he says.

"Well I'll make it easy for you then. I don't love you. I'm glad you are going. I'm sick of watching you mope around her like some kind of injured puppy. I'm sick of sharing my life with you. I'm stick of your stupid breakfasts. I'm sick of you sitting outside the shower for me. Do you know what it's like for me to be out here right now? In THIS?!" She throws her arms up at the rain. "This is TORTURE for me, Gale. You are TORTURING me. So just go. I don't want you here."

Gale inches closer to her. "I can't."

"We've been here for months and NOW you have feelings for me? NOW you want to say something? You are a pussy, Gale Hawthorne. Just leave me alone."

"I can't." He's drawing himself in to her. With every steps forward I can see her resolve breaking. She's sobbing by the time he wraps his arms around her waist and lifts her into the air. He puts one hand on the back of her head and pushes his mouth onto hers. Johanna fights him.

"I can't. I can't," she whimpers into his mouth. She wraps her legs around his waist and he has both hands around her back, pulling her into him. "I can't," and finally… Johanna gives in. She kisses him back with urgency and ferociousness. Gale steps forward until they slam into the side of my house. He pins her there, and she devours him in return. Finally they grow quieter, and I can hear Johanna crying into his arms.

"Come with me," he pleads.

"I can't," she says. He cradles her face in his hands. "Choose me. Be here with me," Johanna begs.

"I can't," Gale says and he backs away from her. Her feet return to the ground, and Gale heads back to their house. Johanna screams at him in the rain. She throws mud and curses. I know I should have closed the bedroom window, but I didn't. I slip downstairs and wait for her to come inside. When she crosses the threshold, I open my arms and she collapses into a mess on the floor. Her clothes are clinging to her body, and I pull them over her head and drop them in a wet pile. I pull her close to me. I don't know when he woke, but Peeta enters the kitchen with a towel in his hands. He wraps it around her body and pulls us both into his arms. The three of us stay there for most the night, until Johanna finally drifts. I stare at Peeta, with our friend asleep between us.

"Stay with me." I mouth.

"Always," he mouths back.


	22. Chapter 22

The next morning, we all make our way to the train station together, except Johanna. I tried to get her to come down, but she's too livid to see past last night. Gale carries a large duffle bag over his shoulder. His eyes keep darting up to the street, hoping she will show up, but I don't think she will.

"I'll miss you so much, Gale," Delly blubbers. "I brought you these for the ride." She presses a packet of cinnamon fireballs into his hand. They are Gale's favorite. He smiles at her.

"Thanks, Delly."

He goes around saying his goodbyes to each of us. Gale and Peeta shake hands and Peeta pulls him in for a quick embrace. Gale ends with me. He scoops me into his arms and I wrap mine tightly around his neck. I've said goodbye to him too many times in my life. Gale's always been the one I've left behind, and now with the situation reversed I can appreciate how truly awful it feels to be on the other end. We don't talk. We've never needed to. He just holds me and my toes skim the ground. "Thank you, Catnip." He puts me down. I smile stupidly and brush away tears with the back of my hand. I've become such a blubbering idiot lately. Soon no one will be able to tell me apart from Delly. Peeta squeezes my hand.

Gale shoots one last look up the street before finally boarding the train, resigning himself to the fact that Johanna is not coming. I don't know if he was hoping she'd come say goodbye, or if he was thinking she might have changed her mind about leaving with him. Somewhere, though, he knows better. Johanna is the happiest she's ever been here with us. She spent years isolated and alone. She bristled at affection. I still remember her screaming at Snow in the Arena.

 _No one, ever, says anything like that in the Games, but I have heard her and I can never think about her in the same way again. She'll never win an award for kindness, but she certainly is gutsy. Or crazy. She picks up some shells and heads toward the jungle. I can't help but catching her hand as she passes me. "Don't go in there. The birds-"_

 _"They can't hurt me. I'm not like the rest of you. There's no one left I love," Johanna says, and frees her hand with an impatient shake._

She spent years letting no one in. Protecting her heart. And now she's let Gale in, and all of us, really. I barely got her off the floor this morning. We've all lost people. Gale, Effie, Peeta, Delly, me. But there is a whole other kind of pain when you lose everyone. That pain is reserved for Johanna and Haymitch. They lost every single person they cared about until the Capitol broke them. Johanna retreated to her head, Haymitch retreated to a bottle. Getting someone like that to open up again is no easy feat. Gale did that, and now he's leaving.

"GALE!" We all hear her scream from the top of the hill. Johanna is barreling toward us, running as fast as her legs will carry her. I think back to Cato, running for his life from the Mutts. Johanna is running for her life now. "GALE!" she screams.

I see Gale realize she's there through the window of the train. He pounds the glass. "JOHANNA!" He's gone from the window now, and I see him shove the attendant out of the way and hang himself out the door of the train as it pulls away.

"GALE!" Johanna is at the train now, running with all her might. Tears are streaking down her face. Gale looks back at us as the train pulls him away. He looks at Johanna as she loses ground as the train speeds up. "GALE!" she screams. He's reaching his hand for her, but she's not going to make it. A footrace is an inevitable losing battle against a locomotive. She finally drops to her knees. I see Gale brace himself. I expect to see him pull himself back inside, but instead he leaps from the moving train and rolls onto the platform. He's hurt, I can tell, but he pulls himself up and limps his way toward her. Johanna is on her feet now too, and she runs forward and throws herself into his arms. They are kissing and crying, her legs around his waist like last night, but instead this time they are falling into each other.

"But Paylor said you had to go," Johanna says, tears streaking her face and a smile bursting through all the same.

"I can't. I can't go. I choose you," he says back.

"So you'll stay?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna stay here and cause all kinds of trouble." He winks at me, and squeezes Johanna tight into his arms.

Gale is on the phone with Paylor's administration all afternoon. I have to keep reminding myself that I like her. Haven't we given enough? I know Gale wants to serve, but for once in his life he wants to be selfish. He sacrificed everything in the war effort. He lost himself. He almost lost me. He's just finally digging his way back out; remembering who he was before and learning who he is now. And who he is now is desperately in love with Johanna Mason. If she's in 12, so is he.

I wonder what their relationship was like before they came to 12. I know Johanna was still in the Capitol when Gale took up his post in 2. Apparently she was the only one still talking to him after the fall of the Capitol. Johanna and Gale spent every night on the phone together. He was completely lost after the death of Prim, and she pulled him through it. If there was one thing Johanna knew, it was loss and grief. When she finally convinced him to come here and see me, he begged her to tag along. I don't think either expected to stay. I don't know when he fell for her… or when he realized he had. I remember Finnick, in the bunker.

 _"Did you love Annie right away, Finnick?" I asked._

 _"No." A long time passed before he added, "She crept up on me."_

Gale is late to dinner at Delly's. She's attempted to replicate my favorite, lamb stew with prunes. It's surprisingly good. When I tell her so, she beams. Gale drags himself in and plops at the table. We all watch him, expectantly, but instead he just fills one of Delly's pristine pieces of china with stew, leans back in his chair with the bowl on his chest, and shovels it into his mouth. Years of hunger don't make Seam folk the most polite eaters. Effie clears her throat and he promptly sits up.

"So…?" Delly breaks the ice. "Can you stay?"

"Yes, on one condition," Gale says.

"And what's that?" I ask, the caution dripping from my voice.

"If I can get elected Senator, I can stay here. Well, I can stay here most of the time."

"Well that's wonderful!" Effie declares, clapping her hands. "When do you start?"

Gale sighs. "That's not how it works now, Effie. The Senator isn't appointed. Neither is the Mayor. In the new government, the representatives are elected by the people. I need to convince the people of 12 that I should represent them."

"Well, that will certainly be easy, Gale. You saved all of their lives, practically. Literally! You literally saved all of their lives. They owe it to you," she says back. I know she thinks she is helping, but Gale is disheartened and I understand. No one else at this table will, but I do. He doesn't feel like he's earned this. He's certain he'll win, but he thinks it will be because the people are repaying a debt, not because he's the best man for the job. It undermines the whole system. Once again, the choice of the people is taken away from them. If they vote for him out of obligation, how is that any different than Snow appointing a loyalist?

"Then you'll have to beat me." I say. What am I doing? I don't even like people, let alone do I want to voluntarily go to the Capitol once every three months. Sit in on meetings. Vote on things. Ugh. But he needs to earn this.

"What?!" Johanna chokes on her stew.

"You heard me. If you want this, you'll have to take down the Mockingjay," I say. Everyone else at the table is astonished, but Gale grins wickedly at me. As does Haymitch.

"While I'm sure he appreciates the sentiment, sweetheart, you aren't exactly real competition," Haymitch says.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I scowl at him.

"Well, for starters - you're unpleasant to be around, you have the personality of a wet mop, the entire country thinks you're mentally unstable, you assassinated our last President, you aren't even allowed to leave District 12, you have an insatiable murderous streak, and I think Gale would have more competition campaigning against a drunk wombat with a speech impediment than he would campaigning against you." He sips his coffee. "Frankly, I'm not sure what the kid even sees in you."

Peeta's face is turning crimson as he tries to bury a laugh, but everyone at the table is losing this battle and soon they have all joined. I don't think it's funny at all. I push my chair away from the table and slam the door as I leave. Gale is right behind me.

"Hey, Catnip…" he grabs my hand. I turn and look at him. "I appreciate it."

I'm more embarrassed than anything at this point. I was just trying to help my friend, and now I've made myself look like a fool. I'm too proud to get over things right away, so instead I go home.

As it turns out, Gale didn't need me to volunteer as competition at all. The race for District 12 Senator is more diluted than we thought. Alongside Gale's name on the ballot is Arlo, the man who runs the Market, and Thom. The special election is held the first week in September. On election day, we all head down to the Justice Building to cast the first vote of our free nation. In the voting booth, I circle Gale's name for Senator, and I write in Thom's name for Mayor. Haymitch has assured me that's allowed. I hold the ballot in my hand for another moment. It seems so insignificant and slight, but this piece of paper is what we fought for. This is why we are here. Free will.

Johanna arrives next at the table to collect her ballot.

"Name?" the attendant asks.

"Johanna Mason."

"You're not on the list," the attendant replies. "Next."

"What do you mean?" Johanna demands, blocking the next person in line.

"You aren't listed as citizen of District 12," the attendant says. "That's all I know. You need to see the District Clerk. Third floor."

Johanna kicks the leg of the table, turns on a dime, and storms out of the room. Gale, Peeta, and I all follow. She's taking the stairs two at a time until she arrives at the Clerk's Office.

"Who's the District Clerk?" Johanna demands of no one in particular.

"I am," a middle-aged woman steps forward to the counter. "What can I help you with?"

"The bitch downstairs says I'm not a citizen of District 12. I've been living here for months!" Johanna's yelling now.

"Well, to be a citizen of District 12, or any district for that matter, you have to meet one of the following criteria: you must have been born in District 12, you must own property in District 12, you must have completed an official residency transfer from another district in Panem, or you must be married to a resident of District 12," the clerk finishes.

"Fine then, transfer me."

"Of course. Let me acquire the paperwork. The typical transfer takes about 4 to 6 weeks, so we should have you…"

"What? I can't wait 4 to 6 weeks. I want to vote today."

"I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do..." the clerk start before Johanna interrupts.

"Let's do the other one, then," Johanna demands.

"Which one, miss?" the clerk asks.

"The marriage one. Let's do that. I can do that today, right?" Johanna says.

"Well, yes of course, but…"

"Just get the paperwork," Johanna spits at her. The clerk returns with a marriage license. Peeta and I just stand there with our jaws dropped. I am flabbergasted. Gale joins her at the counter. Johanna signs and initials in a few places, and then slides the paper across the counter to Gale. She slams the pen down in front of him. "Sign this," she insists, without an ounce of romance or love in her voice. If anything, she's annoyed.

Gale scribbles his name. "We need a witness," he says, and his gray eyes meet mine. "Katniss? Wanna be my best man?" I step forward and take the pen. I never thought my name would appear on a marriage license, let alone with Gale's. I sign my name on the witness line, get on my tiptoes, and kiss his cheek.

"Is that it, then?" Johanna asks the clerk.

"Yes, that's it. You are officially a citizen of District 12, Mrs. Hawthorne." Johanna shoots her a death glare and takes Gale's hand.

"Don't ever call me that again or I'll bury an axe in your chest," she seethes at the woman. Johanna grabs Gale by the shirt. "Come on, Mr. Mason. It's time to go vote." Johanna drags him from the room.

With that, Gale is married.


	23. Chapter 23

Gale's inauguration is a week later. Everyone joins him in the Capitol to celebrate, but since I'm stuck in 12, Haymitch, Peeta and I stay behind. To be truthful, I'm grateful for the time alone. While my family keeps me on my toes, sometimes I just want to hide away from everyone. Everyone but Peeta.

There is a smaller celebration in town to swear in Thom as Mayor. Apparently I wasn't the only one scribbling his name on my ballot. Peeta, Haymitch, and I go to the celebration. I have a little too much champagne, which makes my head spin, and I cling to Peeta as we twirl around the dance floor. I'm not normally so forthcoming with my affection in public, but when the band slows down, I find myself burying my face in the crook of his neck while we sway. The room is starting to tilt, and I feel his hands tighten on my hips. I want to get out of here.

I whisper in Peeta's ear, "Let's go home." This is the first time I've referred to my place as "home," as in "home for both of us." As in "our home." I can feel Peeta's happiness radiating from his body. I trip on my way down the front steps, and he catches me.

"Which one of us is missing a leg?" he teases.

My feet hurt, and I walk home carrying my heels in my hand. The grass feels wet and cold against my toes, but I like it. I can hear that I'm chatting non-stop with Peeta, but I'm not really sure what I'm saying. I struggle with the front steps, and Peeta sweeps me into the house and over the threshold.

His arms are delicious. I begin sloppily kissing his throat, and he smiles as he plops me on the couch. "Let's get you some water," Peeta says as his crosses to the kitchen and fills a glass. "Here, drink this." I struggle with the water, spilling more than I'm probably getting into my mouth. I don't really care. I don't want water, I want Peeta.

He's standing in front of me while I sit on the couch. I feel absolutely giddy. Dizzy, but giddy. I want this. I want him. Things between us have been moving slowly. At my pace. I've had a hard time breaking down the walls I put up around myself to let Peeta in, and I make sure to take smalls steps so I don't scare myself and push him away again. More and more often, however, we've been kissing until we are both panting for lack of air. Our hands are exploring. We push boundaries by inches. Tonight, all that seems stupid. I want him. His waist is eye level with me and I start fumbling with his belt. He smiles and laughs. "What do you think you are doing?"

"I want you," I say, and pull his belt from its loops and throw it away. I stand up and start kissing him. I run my hands all over his chest, his hair. He's smiling and reciprocating, although not quite to my level. I push my tongue into his mouth to try to get him on the same page as me.

"What's gotten into you?" Peeta smirks at me. I'm sucking one earlobe and tugging on the other. I can't get close enough to him. I try to unbutton his shirt, but I'm too buzzed to get my fingers to cooperate. Instead I pull until I rip through the buttons. I sweep my hands across his bare stomach and slip one down his pants.

"Woah," Peeta says and pulls back. His face is flushed and he looks shocked. "Katniss, what are you doing?"

"I told you, I want you," I say, stepping forward and kissing him again. It's sloppy and passionate and I want to make him shatter. My hands start roaming again and he grabs my wrist.

"I think we need to slow down," he says. That doesn't make sense.

"Why? I know you want me." I whisper in his ear, "You're a boy, I can tell." His face flushes again, but this time he's not smiling.

"No," he says, and pushes his hands away.

"No? I thought you loved me?" I'm acting like a petulant child, but I don't care. He can't spend all this time telling me he loves me and then rebuke me the first time I want to… I want to…

"I do love you," he steps forward and cups my face. "I've always loved you." I take this as a sign to move forward, but the second I resume he's pushing me away again. "Stop, Katniss!"

My emotions shift in kind. I grab a pillow and throw it at his face. He ducks. "I thought you wanted me! You're a liar!"

"Not like this. I don't want it to be like this." This time I grab the glass of water and throw it at his head. Or, at least that's where I was aiming. It shatters on the wall behind him, shooting glass and water everywhere.

"Well, it's this or nothing, Peeta," I spit at him.

His eyes are sad when they meet mine, then he turns and leaves my house.

I sit on the couch and pass out.

When the morning light peaks through the living room windows, my head splits. I force my eyes open and take in my surroundings. It looks like a battle scene. Glass is shattered all over my floor. Pillows are strewn about. The carpet is tangled. I'm still in my dress from last night, but it's twisted. I see Peeta's belt lying on the floor behind me and it all comes back to me in a flash of shame and anger. What was I doing? I try to stand but the world tilts dramatically on me and I sit back down. I should clean up the glass. _I should lie back down._

I try to go back to sleep but everything hurts. I want to die. I want this couch to suck me into the cushions and then I'll disappear along with socks and whatever else gets lost down there. When the front door opens, I groan. Sae hasn't made me breakfast since Peeta started staying here. I manage to roll over and squint at the door. It's certainly isn't Sae.

Peeta makes his way to the couch and squats in front of me. He pushes my hair out of my face. "Morning, sunshine," he says.

I try to hide my face in the couch cushion. I am humiliated by my behavior last night. I try to say, "I'm sorry," but instead it comes out as "Imsrrrr…"

"And it's time for bed," Peeta says as he scoops his arms under my body and lifts me from the couch. He carries me up the stairs and I cling to his neck. I now feel very guilty for every time I've woken up Haymitch from a hangover with glass of ice water to the face. Peeta sits me on my bed and pulls the dress up over my head. I lift my arms and he tugs one of his old tee shirts onto my body. When I drop my hands, my stomach lurches and I feel myself sweat on my lower eyelids. I'm suddenly… I'm going to be sick. I bolt for the bathroom and barely make it to the toilet before I'm heaving up champagne and raspberry tarts. Peeta holds my hair back until I've emptied everything inside me. I rest my head on the porcelain and take him in. I have vomit on my chin. I'm sweating and smell like death. My face is in a toilet. And yet Peeta is looking at me like I'm the most beautiful woman in the world.

He wets a washcloth in the sink. He wipes my mouth, my face, my neck. He pulls me up off the floor and we walk to bed. He tucks me in, draws the curtains, and closes the door. I hear him downstairs - sweeping up glass, straightening furniture. I hear him baking in the kitchen. I'm feeling better, and in a few hours I creep downstairs. Peeta's back is to me as he's checking something in the oven. I sneak up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist. He smells like dill and his body is warm against my chest. He spins around without breaking free from my arms. He puts his hands on counter behind me, and I'm pinned with his arms on either side of me. I relax into him.

"I'm so sorry, Peeta," I breathe into his chest. I am sorry. And ashamed.

He wraps his arms around my body and puts his chin on my head. He squeezes me tight in his arms. "No more alcohol, okay? You clearly have no tolerance for it."

"Okay," I agree. I had already decided this anyway. Alcohol and I don't mix. I don't like being out of control.

He hands me a cheesy bun. I pull it apart and watch the cheese stretch and melt. My stomach growls. This is how I wanted our alone time to be. Us doing us things. I sit on one of the kitchen stools. I'm still not wearing pants, and I catch Peeta staring at my fire-streaked legs. At first I want to shy away. My scars are hideous. But then I see his gaze linger...

"Peeta Mellark, are you checking me out?" I tease.

"Sorry, but you are sitting there with your bare legs and my old t-shirt hanging off your shoulder. It's kind of like a fantasy of mine come true."

"Oh?" I hitch the t-shirt up a little more, exposing more of my legs and until the bottom of my underwear is peaking out. I watch as his jaw drops slowly. He steps forward until his fingers are ghosting over my thighs. I run my lips along his cheek, until my mouth is at his ear. I whisper, "So you still want me?" He gulps and nods his head. "Good," I whisper, and pull myself away. "I've got to shower." I skip up the stairs and leave Peeta in the kitchen, clutching the stool.


	24. Chapter 24

The next day I decide to take Peeta to the lake. I'm still trying to make up for my drunken fit. The only person here to talk to about it is Haymitch, but I don't think this is a comfortable area for him yet. Since our family left for the Capitol, he's spent his days hauled up in his house, working on some project. I have no idea what it is, but he's being very secretive.

I pack a picnic basket for our trip. I include leftover rabbit from Sunday's dinner, a fresh green salad, some crusty bread, and a goat cheese pastry. I'll admit, Peeta made most of this food, but I am packing it so it's sort of like I made lunch. Peeta is upstairs showering. It's kind of silly, considering we will get sweaty on the hike and we are probably swimming, but the boy is a creature of habit. He blames his father.

Once I finish packing, I head upstairs and sit bouncing on the bed waiting for him to come out of the bathroom. When the door creaks open, all he's wearing is a towel wrapped around his waist and he's vigorously rubbing a smaller towel through his wet hair. He's absolutely beautiful. My eyes trail down his stomach, over his arms. Peeta obviously didn't realize I was there, because he jumps back in fright when he sees me sitting on the bed.

"Oh my God, you scared me," he says, clasping his chest. "I thought you were downstairs."

"Do you shower with your leg on?" I tease.

"Oh," he smiles. "No, but I wore it in, so… What exactly are you staring at Katniss? You seem like you're in a trance."

"Nothing!" I feel the heat of a blush race to my cheeks. "Just wanted you to know I'm ready when you are." I flit out of the room and bounce down the stairs. Peeta comes down after a few minutes and we head into the woods.

I feel like I'm myself whenever I'm out here. I sneak my bow and arrow from a log, but quickly realize Peeta is just as loud as ever. I don't bother hunting, we just walk through the woods and talk. Peeta tells me about these new paint supplies Effie will be bringing back from the Capitol for him. Apparently they talk on the phone every night. She and Delly have been spending all their time taking in as much "culture" as they can before they are back to what Effie lovingly refers to as "the wastelands of District 12." They haven't seen much of Gale and Johanna, who've spent most of their time in their room. Peeta winks at me and I slap his arm.

"I wonder what Haymitch is working on at his house?" I postulate.

"I have no idea. I'm just worried he's going to burn the house down. When he was drunk I used to just unplug his stove and then I wouldn't have to worry so much. Sober Haymitch has figured out how to plug it back in," Peeta jokes. He tells me a story about one time when he and one of his brothers almost burned down the bakery. We are both in tears laughing when he describes his oldest brother ratting them out to his mother. I know the story is going to take a darker turn. He gets quiet.

"Then what happened?" I ask.

Peeta just shakes his head and keeps walking.

"Peeta?" I speed up my pace and take his hand. "Look at me."

He stops walking and looks at the forest floor. He kicks a small stick with his shoe. I grab both sides of his face and force his eyes to mine.

"I'm sorry," I say.

He breaks away from me and digs his toe into the earth. "It was a long time ago, Katniss. You have nothing to be sorry about."

"I threw something at you." He's quiet. I step forward and weave my fingers through his. "I will never, ever, do anything like that ever again. I am not her. I will never hurt you."

"You probably would have said the same thing before the dance, too. That you'd never do that." He's right, I would have. "Look, it's fine. I just don't want to talk about it anymore. Let's go to the lake." He starts to walk away. I wrap my arms around his waist and pull him into me.

"Peeta, I love…" He cuts me off.

"Don't do that. Don't say that now. Don't ruin that for me. If you say it now, I'll always wonder if it was because you really wanted to say it, or because you felt like you had to." He's frustrated now. "I get it, you know? The owing thing. I may not be from the Seam, but I don't want you to say that because you owe me something." He turns to me and looks me right in the eyes. "When you say that to me, I want it to be because you are so madly in love with me that you can't not say it. Because it's real. Not because you owe me." He turns to walk away from me, and I grab his hand.

"I will never hurt you," I look him dead in the eye.

"Don't make a promise you can't keep."

"I'm not." I kiss him softly. I feel him let go, and he exhales into my mouth.

"Okay."

The rest of the walk is mostly in silence, until we come upon the lake. Peeta's never been out here. The residents of District 12 are still leary about the woods for the most part, and those that aren't steer clear of this area. Too many painful memories from after the firebombing. For me, though, it reminds me of my father.

"Sometimes it's almost like I can still feel my dad when I'm out here," I say as I drag a finger across the surface of the water.

"Sometimes I go to where the bakery used to be. I try to find my dad, but I can't."

"I didn't know you did that, Peeta," I say. He gives me a small smile.

"Remember when you taught me how to swim?" Peeta asks.

"You think you can _swim_?" I chide.

"I can keep my head above water."

"Barely." I stand up and slip out of my clothes. I catch Peeta watching me in my undergarments. "Turn around!" I chastise. I silently glide into the water. I relax my body and allow its natural buoyancy to float me to the surface. "I always think of Finnick out here." I say to no one in particular. It's not to Peeta. It's just a statement.

I pull myself closer to shore, where Peeta sits sketching the water.

"I was really surprised Johanna could swim," I say. "After, you know…"

"That's not how they hurt her," Peeta says nonchalantly, as if the thought of watching Johanna be tortured isn't so horrific I want to vomit in the water. He looks up from his sketchbook and sees my face. "I just mean she wasn't submerged. It's the drops… like in a shower…"

"Or in the rain," I say, remembering her fight with Gale.

"Yeah, it's the sensation of the droplets hitting her skin."

I don't want to know what that even means. Peeta returns to drawing. I swim around a bit and make my way back to him. I float with my fingertips on the ground in the shallow water by the shore.

"Whatcha drawing?" I ask. He turns the sketchpad to me. He's drawn me with a fin, gliding underwater. "Am I a…" I try to draw the word out from the children's books in my memory - "A mermaid?" He smiles and nods his head.

I fidget in the water. "Come swim with me…" I flirt. I'm flirting.

"I thought I didn't know how to swim?" Peeta responds. I roll my eyes, but he pulls his shirt over his head and joins me in the water.

"Cold! Cold! Very cold!" He's on his tiptoes and trying to keep his arms above water.

"Welcome to swimming in September. Hot days, cold nights."

"You're lucky I like you," he says and finally submerges his arms and dunks his head underwater. We splash around for a bit. I teach Peeta a couple different maneuvers in the water. After he completes an impressive lap of butterfly strokes, I swim over and drape my arms around his neck. Our bodies are cold, and I wrap my legs around his waist and pull myself into him. It's quiet. All we can hear is the slow splash of the water on our bodies.

I lean down and kiss Peeta. Slowly. Deliberately. He kisses me back. It's still. It's peaceful and beautiful and my mind slips back. To the bread. To the dandelion. To the Reaping. To the Games. To the cave. To the train. To the roof. To the beach. To midnight. To losing each other, and finding our way back again. It's always been Peeta. I fought it. I pushed back. But it's always been Peeta. He feels it too because our delicate kissing transforms into something heated and passionate. I'm all over him, and he's all over me. I'm breathing erratically and digging my nails into his back, trying to claw him closer to me. I need him so much closer.

Peeta's hands skim the edge of my underwear. My heart is pounding. I feel like it may explode from my chest. His eyes are glued to mine. He's asking me without words. I nod my head and his hand slips into my panties. I gasp. I feel like it's echoing across the silent lake, and so I press my mouth in the crook of Peeta's neck just as he slips a finger inside me. I moan into his skin and he presses a kiss against my throat. He moves his finger slowly inside me and I feel myself slightly thrusting against him. He curls another finger in and I groan. I'm panting as he pulls his hand in and out. I knot my fingers in his curls. He moans into my hair.

The sudden crack of a branch in the woods has Peeta and I leaping apart from one another. When we realize it's nothing, we both look at each other and laugh. We get out of the lake. My wet underclothes are clinging to my fire mutt body. But Peeta's matches mine. Every lick of fire that has consumed my flesh has lapped his as well. We are a pair. I smile at him, and it's the most real smile I've ever given in my life. He's absolutely elated, and grins back.


	25. Chapter 25

Everyone returns from the Capitol a few days later. Gale and Johanna seem to constantly be connected - her hand in his pocket, his arm around her shoulders. They have no discretion when it comes to affection, and I've now seen her tongue down his throat more times than I need to. She matches his fiery personality in spades. They are both fiercely happy.

Delly and Peeta have been inseparable too. She tells him about a theater she and Effie visited, a shop filled with lace curtains, and the marble bathroom stalls in the Senate building. She brought back exotic candies for everyone that change flavor as you suck them or fizz away on your tongue or make your breath blue. She goes on and on.

It seems the Capitol citizens have not lost their taste for extravagance, but if anything the manufacturing and purchasing of goods is helping to rebuild our economy, or at least that's what Gale tells me. The government is paying good wages to the laborers of much needed infrastructure projects, like supply routes between the districts, since before every supply route was a one-way trip to the Capitol. In turn, those laborers buy things from the shop keepers, who pay manufacturers for their supplies. Everyone is interconnected in this beautiful way. Our country is healing and growing.

As we sit at Gale's kitchen table, he tells me all about his first session in Senate. As much as this wasn't his idea, he is thriving. He's driven by purpose. I'm not totally listening when he says birth rate is off the charts. I guess without the fear of a reaping and the ability to feed every mouth, families are burgeoning everywhere. He tries to explain the income and sales tax system to me - that is how we fund all these projects - but it's a little over my head. The idea of sending any money to the Capitol makes me want to puke, but he assures me there is transparency and the money is reinvested in the people. It's enough political talk for me. I drink my tea and ask about Johanna.

"So things are… good?"

"Things are great. Being with her is the best decision I've ever made," he says.

"Falling in love with someone isn't a decision," I say. If I've learned anything in past couple years, it's that.

"I decided to jump off the train. Life's full of decisions," he says back. At that moment, Johanna sweeps back into the room and deposits herself on his lap. She begins nibbling on his ear, and when I see her tongue dart out of her mouth I decide to go see Delly and Peeta. They are sitting on the floor looking through a book of art Delly bought in the Capitol. When he sees me enter, his face lights up. I see Delly swoon over us (she's our self-appointed biggest fan), and I roll my eyes. She points at a page in the book to Peeta, who pulls it closer for inspection.

"Delly, Arlo's son was asking after you in the Market last week," I say nonchalantly.

"REALLY?!" I expected her to shriek, but the decibel to which this girl can raise her voice must be a miracle of science.

"He was wondering when you were coming back from the Capitol." I sip my tea and act sneak a peek at Peeta, who is grinning wickedly.

"Oh gosh, really Katniss? Did you say soon? Did he say anything else? What was he wearing? Did he..." Delly is literally bubbling questions.

"Only that he had something he wanted to ask you," I reply, giving her a sly but encouraging smile.

With that Delly is out the door, blonde curls bouncing behind her.

"She's like a pet," I say to Peeta, who gives me a dirty look.

"That's not very kind, Katniss," he scolds me.

"Not in a bad way… she just makes me smile when she prances around like one of those… what are those dogs in the Capitol? Poodles? Like a poodle."

The edge of his mouth creeps up. "She makes you smile?"

I scowl. "For very short periods of time."

Peeta pulls me into him. I guess he's taking a queue from Gale and Johanna, but I'm still a little uncomfortable being so open with other people around.

"Stop squirming, there's no one in here," he says and gently kisses my neck. I sigh into him and fist his shirt in my hand.

"Ahem," Haymitch clears his throat. We pull apart and look up at our mentor. When did he get sneaky? "You two are just as bad as the newlyweds."

"What do you want, Haymitch?" I say.

"I'm just letting you all know that you are formally invited to a welcome home party at my place tonight."

"At your place?" Peeta asks, an eyebrow pricked.

"Are you… cooking food?" I ask.

"Haymitch, do you even know how to the stove works?" Peeta inquires.

Haymitch gives him a look and states, "I can manage to boil water when it's plugged in, kid. Be there at 6. And look nice." He heads to the kitchen and we hear him repeat the message to Johanna and Gale.

Johanna slinks into the living room and looks at me with seductive eyes. "We're supposed to look pretty. Think you can manage it, _stupid_?" She calls me stupid with affection now. She sees me shake my head. "Girls night! Come on! Let's go over to Effie's and we'll get all pretty-like for the boys." This sounds like torture. The last thing in the world I want is to give Effie permission to do anything regarding my appearance. Before I know it she'll have shaved off my eyebrows and replaced them with glittery lightening bolts.

"Johanna, you are telling me that you will voluntarily go into the house where frills went to die, lock yourself in a room with Effie and Delly, and tell them they can dress us up like that porcelain freak of a doll Delly has?"

"No, I'm saying I'll lock you in there and then take a shot of white liquor every time Effie suggests feathers or Delly asks when you and Peeta are going to get married," she retorts. Johanna cackles at the incredulous look on my face, and then says, "Okay, how about just you and me?"

Johanna and I head to my place, leaving Gale and Peeta alone. They don't seem to want to kill each other anymore, so that's nice, but I'm not sure they are volunteering for male bonding time. At my house, we dig in the basement until we find the bag of dresses Cinna sent home with me. We drag them up to my bedroom and dig through them. Johanna finds an emerald green dress with a plunging neckline. I can't imagine Cinna ever saw me in that. Maybe it was mixed in by accident. At the bottom of the bag I find one that I am sure what crafted by his discerning eye. It's a pale orange, like the edge of a sunrise. If falls just above my knees. The front is modest, but when I turn around the back drops low. I add some strappy sandals and look in the mirror. I look sunkissed. Like the end of a dying summer. When Johanna comes out of the bathroom and sees me in it, she smiles at me.

"Cinna really knew how to drape," I say shyly.

"He had a muse," she says back.

Johanna adds a balm to her hands and twists my hair softly until it hangs in curls at my shoulders. Her own hair is still short, but she can run her fingers through it. She styles her hair in an asymmetrical, choppy sweep. The clock says we are ready early, so we lay side-by-side on my bed, facing the ceiling. Johanna weaves her fingers in mine. She's different since she got back. Since she got married. Since she decided to run for the train. Since Gale decided to jump for her. Since she decided to drop her walls and let us all in.

"You've changed," I whisper quietly.

"I like it," she says.

"Me too," I say back.

A moment passes before she adds, "If you tell anyone I said that, I'll smother you with this pillow."


	26. Chapter 26

Peeta and Gale are already there when Johanna and I arrive. Delly and Effie were there an hour early. When I step through the door, I feel Peeta's eyes all over me. I feel my face flush, and when I look up I can't seem to take my eyes of him either. He's wearing a suit the color of sand that cuts in all the right places. My eyes trail down his broad shoulders and linger. I can feel an electricity between us. He steps up to me and whispers in my ear, "You look stunning." I just nod. I want to wrap his tie around my fist and pull his mouth into mine, but I try to push the thought away. Try.

The house smells amazing. I see pots and pans keeping warm on the stove and give Haymitch a quizzical look. When Sae comes around the corner and begins stirring one of the pots, it all comes together. I take in the rest of the house. It's cleaner than I've seen it since Hazelle. There is a blanket hanging over the entry to the dining room so we can't see inside. When Sae announces dinner is ready, we all start making our way there when Haymitch shouts, "WAIT!" We all turn back to look at him, but he only has eyes for Effie.

"I'm not good at words. I never have been, but here goes. Effie Trinket, you make me wild. With anger, with passion, with frustration. I am infatuated by you. But most of all, I'm wildly in love with you." I see Effie beaming out of the corner of my eye, tears glistening. "I know 12 is a simple place. I know I'm a simple man, but I feel like this box is a home whenever you are here. So… this is for you." Haymitch pulls the blanket from the door.

His dining room has been transformed. It is elegant, and extravagant, but tasteful all the same. The walls are covered with a shimmering pearl wall paper. A crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling and refracts a burst of colors onto the walls. Underneath is a grand table of mahogany, with swirling, scrolled legs. The chairs have cushions of satin. There is china glistening on the table, and an extraordinary cabinet to house it that's lit from the inside. A carpet stretches below the table, with vibrant blues and greens. We are all stunned into silence by its beauty. It's not overdone, but it's by no means simple. The room is refined. Fit for a lady.

Effie is hiccuping sobs back as she takes in each detail. She pulls her fingers across the table. She inspects the filigree that dances its way across each piece of silver. She holds a crystal flute in her hands. This means more from Haymitch than anything ever could. He boarded himself up in this house for years. He was isolated, and he pushed away anyone who tried to let themselves in. He's giving himself to her.

"Did you do this all yourself?" Effie manages to get out through tearful eyes and a gleaming smile.

"Well, Octavia helped with the design a little, but I spent the time you were gone putting it all together," he says.

I haven't seen them kiss since the hospital, but Effie crosses the room and places a soft kiss gently against his lips. "You never cease to surprise me, Mr. Abernathy."

"Well, the kids made me remember that life is short. And I want you in mine." I can tell he's uncomfortable with these public declarations, but he's doing it for Effie. They kiss again, and Haymitch clears his throat. "Let's eat!"

Sae has really outdone herself. She's made chicken in a rich orange marmalade, carrots dressed with ginger and lime, chard braised with bacon, and a salad with apricot and candied pecans on a bed of spinach. We beg her to stay with us, but she excuses herself and ducks out. Effie is beaming all through dinner. We laugh and eat. I feel alive. I smile and Peeta and he smirks back at me. Under the table, I place my hand on his thigh. His eyes flash for only a second, and then he continues his dinner discourse like nothing is happening. I slowly slide my hand up, and he's asking Gale to pass the carrots. I can feel the heat emanating from his body. He's excited, and I'm not stopping.

Effie clinks her crystal glass with her fork, drawing everyone's attention. She makes a speech, which I'm sure is lovely, but with everyone's eyes glued on her I slip my hand up. He is hard under his pants as I slowly slide my fingers up and down. I feel his body stiffen, his breathing become ragged. Everyone raises their glasses and drinks a toast. Peeta smiles to no one in particular.

The night wraps up and everyone makes their way home. Gale and Johanna leave first, followed by Delly. Peeta and I smile and hug Effie. Peeta shakes Haymitch's hand. The joy in this house is infectious. I feel elated. I'm dizzy with it. Peeta and I cross the yard to our home. I fumble with the door knob, and the moment our bodies are through Peeta pushes me into the closed door. His mouth is on mine. His hands are everywhere. I reciprocate, pushing my hands through his hair and sucking on his ear lobe with my lips. It drives him crazy and he pushes me into the door harder still. I can't keep my hands off him. I reach behind him, pull his hips into me. We both groan as we connect. I want more of this feeling.

He takes my hands in his and presses them above my head. I'm pinned to the door, and he is trailing kisses across my neck and down my chest. They are sloppy and wet and passionate and are setting me on fire. He pushes into me again and I can feel how excited he is. There is heat radiating from between my legs, and I'm certain he can tell I'm right there with him. Peeta pulls the strap of my dress from my shoulder and runs his mouth along where it used to be. He sweeps his arms under my legs and lifts me. I wrap my legs around his waist and we can't stop kissing. He carries me into the living room and up the stairs. Peeta kicks my bedroom door open and deposits me on the bed.

I prop myself up on my knees so my eyes are chest-level while he stands in front of me. I think he's panicked a little, seeing where this is taking us. I grab his tie and pull him toward me. "Are you coming?" I ask. He leans down and kisses me, slower this time. Methodically, like he's trying to memorize me with his lips.

"I've just… I've thought about this for a long time." His eyes meet mine. I know what he's hoping I'll say, but I can't do that right now.

Instead, I place a hand on the side of his face. I kiss his chin. His cheek. His forehead. I pull myself up and whisper into his ear, "Me too."

That seems to be enough for him right now. He runs his hands through my hair until he's holding the back of my head. We collapse on the bed together. The pressure of his body pressed against mine makes the synapses in my brain spark. I push one of my legs up between his and he moans into me. His hands linger just below my breasts, and I see Peeta bite his lip. He starts placing kisses on my collarbone, and he slowly drifts down until he's at the edge of my dress. He kisses the skin along the seam until I'm arching my back into him. I prop myself up beneath him and unzip the back of my dress, letting it fall open. Peeta just sighs as he takes me in.

"Could I…?" I take his hand and cover my breast. I am on fire. He gently massages me and runs his thumb over my nipple. I moan and knot the sheets in my hands.

"This all needs to come off," I say, gesturing to his clothes, and I'm frantically unbuttoning his shirt. He unknots his tie and tosses his jacket off the bed. I get the last button open and his chest is bare. He leans down and kisses me, and the feeling of his skin on mine elevates everything I'm feeling. We've been chasing this for weeks, months, years even and I am delirious. He takes one of my nipples in his mouth and I gasp. I grab the pillow, the headboard, his hair. I'm clinging and desperate. I slowly glide my hand over his stomach, tracing a route downward that is both terrifying and exhilarating. This is new to me, to both of us. I feel so vulnerable and yet so empowered. This is going to be messy and terrifying and fun, and I can't image doing this with anyone but Peeta.

He's kissing my mouth again, dipping his tongue in and out with mine when I begin unbuckling his belt. His eyes open wide and lock on mine. This is really happening. This is really happening. I feel like the words are echoing between us, but my lips are humming and I feel alive. The look on his face is intoxicating - shock, excitement, anticipation, pleasure… When I finally wrestle his belt away, I unbutton his pants and slip my hand inside. He is hard and impossibly smooth. He lets out a groan and he buries his face in my neck. I have no idea what I'm doing, but I must be doing something right as starts shaking when I slowly stroke him, moving my hand up and down.

"Katniss," he breathes into me. His voice is raw and husky, and it sets my body humming. He kneads my breast gently, as I keep moving my hand. "Can I…. can this come off?" He gestures to my dress. I sit up and raise my arms over my head and he pulls it off of me. I'm exposed in just my panties, but it feels exciting and safe. He slides them down and over my ankles.

"Your turn," I say and we slide his pants off and throw them away from the bed. His skin is everywhere. We are tangled together, scars streaking our legs and stomachs and arms, and it's not painful. It's the story of us. How we got here. Every mark on my body is mirrored on his. The boy who will always be by my side. The boy with the bread. The boy who gave me hope.

"Peeta," I say, and my throat closes. My eyes fill with tears. I know what I've realized. I am hopelessly, utterly, madly, desperately in love with Peeta Mellark. He can see it all over me. I am trying to get the words out, but I'm choking on a happy sob. He knows, and our movements still.

"You love me. Real or not real?" he asks.

"Real," I breathe out, and I feel relief. I feel a weight lift from my chest. I feel free. "Real." I kiss his shoulder. "Real." I kiss his jaw. "Real." I kiss his mouth, and he moves with me. "Real." I shatter every wall I've built up between me and this boy. "Real."

Peeta sits up and pulls me into his arms. He's holding me impossibly tight, stroking my hair. He presses his cheek into mine, and whispers in my ear, "I'm staying with you. Always." I slide him into me and he clutches my body to his and groans into my neck. He slowly starts thrusting his hips and I mirror him. He reaches his hand down and starts caressing me where our bodies meet. Everything suddenly heightens. Our eyes are glued to one another as our bodies seem to know what to do. I press a kiss to his mouth and he's moaning into me. I'm panting and he accelerates everything… his hand, his hips… I'm pulling at his hair and I need his mouth on mine. He throws me back onto the bed. He holds his body over me and he's thrusting into mine. I'm slipping, I'm trying to hold on, but I'm losing control. He's almost there and I can feel it to. Suddenly Peeta groans and his body stiffens, I feel my back arch and everything inside me is exploding in waves.

Peeta collapses onto me, every inch of our fire mutt skin pressed together. Both of our bodies are shaking slightly, and we just cling to one another. I take his hand, like we did on the chariot. Like we did in the Arena. Like we've done a thousand times since. His hand belongs in mine.

"I love you," I whisper into his hair as I run my free hand along his back. His body relaxes into me.

"I love you, too," he says, only this time, I'm not afraid.


	27. Chapter 27

Peeta and I both sleep through the night. No nightmares. It is peaceful and quiet and long. The next morning I wake up first. The air in our bedroom is cool from the autumn night air creeping in through the open window, but under the blankets I'm warm and wrapped in the arms of a naked boy. This ridiculous grin crosses my face remembering last night.

"I love you," I whisper to him. He keeps sleeping. Well, now I've said it twice, although this second time was just for me. I slowly extract myself, careful not to wake him, wrap a blanket around my body, and sneak into the bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror. I'm wondering if I'm supposed to look different now. My hair is tousled. My body looks just as burned as it did yesterday. I look the same, but I feel beautiful and loved and happy in a way I've never felt before. I feel free. I love Peeta. This is our life now, together. When I creep back into the bedroom, Peeta is sitting up and looking around the room frantically. When he sees me the worry melts into a giant grin that makes his blue eyes glisten. I jump back into the bed and he wraps me into a giant bear hug.

"For a second I thought maybe it wasn't real. Like I just had the best dream of my life," he says.

I give him a shy smile. "It was real," I say, and press my mouth to his.

"No fair! You brushed your teeth! I'm sure my breath is horrible," he says, pulling away and covering his mouth.

I straddle his lap and push my mouth insistently back on his. "I like the way you taste," I whisper as I stroke his lips with my tongue. He lets me in and my tongue finds his. I'm quickly there again, and I grind into Peeta with my hips. He groans into my mouth and keeps kissing me.

Downstairs, I hear the front door slam and Haymitch calls up, "Are you still in bed, Mockingjay? It's almost 10."

I feel what Haymitch once referred to as my "insatiable murderous streak" rearing its ugly head. I glare at the door, but I feel Peeta cup my face and say to me, "Come on, let's go make the old man breakfast." Yes, I suppose that's better than killing him. Leaving this room is the last thing in the world I want to do, but I roll off Peeta and dig some pajamas from a drawer. I open the next drawer down and pull out something for Peeta and toss it to him. I look at his drawer and pause.

"I think you should bring all your clothes here, not just a drawer," I say, my back still facing him.

I hear his smile in his words, "Okay."

We head downstairs. Both Haymitch and Effie are sitting at our bar chatting with one another. Effie laughs and puts her hand on Haymitch's leg. When she sees us on the stairs, she quickly withdraws it. Peeta pulls a large mixing bowl from the cabinet and begins adding ingredients for pancakes. I realize that's not my bowl. I don't know when it made its way here from Peeta's, but it makes me smile all the same. I stand next to him and say softly, "Maybe all your kitchen stuff, too?" He just smiles and keeps his eyes on the batter.

"Okay," he says.

The pancakes are fluffy and golden. Peeta digs out some maple syrup from the cabinet (also not mine), and we sit to eat. Breakfast is a normal breakfast, but we are all smiling like idiots. Effie even at one point wipes syrup off Peeta's face with her napkin, and we laugh as he squirms and pulls away from her. They leave, and Peeta and I decide to head into town. He's been fighting with what to do with the bakery. He has a hard time even being near it. Last time we went down, he had an episode in the middle of the street that left him mute for hours afterward. He misses his father.

As we walk down the street, Peeta tells me about him. "He used to love watching Prim through the window. She'd stop and stare at the cakes nearly every day."

"I remember," I say. "I used to have to drag her away. She told me once it was the prettiest, happiest piece of 12."

"My dad always had a soft spot for her. She was blonde and blue-eyed, sensitive and empathetic. She could always tell when he was having a bad day and would make faces at him through the window until he smiled at her." He stops walking. "Prim looked nothing like your dad."

I stop now too and give him a look. "What exactly are you implying?"

"Oh no, Katniss, that's not what I meant. I just mean that whenever he saw her coming home from school, his face just lit up. I think… I think when my dad looked at her, he saw what might have been. Had he married your mom. I know our parents were childhood friends, but I think it was more than that to my dad. He never said it was, but after that night with the strawberries, I could tell something was there. Something old and stale but never truly gone. I think it's why he liked Prim so much. It's also why I love my dad. Some men, in the same position, would feel bitterness toward her, but it made my dad love Prim even more. He told me when we were in the Arena, even before the rule change, he stopped her every day on her way home from school and gave her cookies and sweets. He couldn't bear to see her hurting."

He's right. Other men would probably resent my family. Me with my coal gray eyes, the product of my mom loving a miner from the Seam, and my sister, looking like she belonged in another world but forced to live in ours. The baker used to drive me crazy because he'd pay more for the squirrels I brought him than he really should have, but it makes sense now. He was looking out for my family. He always made me smile, though. Few people could coax one out of me back then, but when he'd compliment my marksmanship, one would escape and the corner of my mouth would creep up. "Every time, right in the eye," he'd say.

"I know I didn't know him that well, but I miss your dad, too," I say. Our feet carry us forward, and before long we are in the center of town. Peeta smiles and greets people, I just keep to myself. Old habits die hard. When we reach the remains of the bakery, Peeta's pace drags. I can feel the anxiety dripping from his body. The site has mostly been cleared at this point. Really just the foundation remains. Peeta steps over it and stands inside the frame of what used to be his home. I watch him slowly move from room to room. He lingers where the ovens used to be. I see him there, with his dad, kneading dough and laughing. I see his oldest brother, Bannock, giving them a dirty look, his other brother, Rye, burning something. Peeta said Rye never had a knack for baking. I see it all play in Peeta's eyes. For him, this site is now a grave.

I step over the foundation and go inside. I approach Peeta slowly, but I can feel his heart breaking from where I am. My foot catches something hard in the dirt, and I reach down and find a knob from one of the ovens. I dust it off. It's not shiny anymore. It's just a more recognizable piece of rubble, but I know it means something to him. Peeta is facing away from me. When I reach him, I wrap my arms around his waist and press my chest into his back. I push the knob into his hand. His body trembles slightly, and it slides down mine to the ground. I drop to his level and pull him back into me. He just sits there silently, spinning the knob in his hand slowly. I rub small circles on his back and feel his muscles slowly give into me.

"We should rebuild," he barely whispers.

"Okay," I whisper back. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and hold him against me for a long time. We are exposed. There is no privacy in the shell of the bakery. No walls. It's just Peeta and me, and the ghosts, and just a few yards away the world moves on without us. I don't really care who sees us here. District 12 is our home, I trust the people here, and Peeta needs this moment. I intertwine one of my hands with his and pull it to my lips. It's intimate, but I need him to know I'm here with him. And I am, I think I am, until I catch the flash of a camera bulb. I jolt away from Peeta, and to my right I see the bulb flash again and again. I can't see who is behind it. I don't care. I bolt.


	28. Chapter 28

Flash. _"Primrose Everdeen!" My sister has been reaped._

Flash. _I'm on stage after the Quarter Quell interviews holding hands with the other tributes. Most of these people will be dead tomorrow._

Flash. _Peeta shows me his prosthetic leg. It's my fault, because I used the tourniquet. I made him not whole._

Flash. _The people of District 11 put three fingers on their lips and then hold them to the sky. It means thanks. It means admiration. It means goodbye to someone you love._

Flash. _Peeta volunteers to take Haymitch's place at the Reaping. I can feel my heart break in my chest._

Flash. _Snow smiles at me, and I can feel part of me wither inside._

My legs carry me to the woods. I leap what remains of the fence and sprint into the forest until my muscles begin to give out. I take to the closest tree and climb. The boughs begin to grow more supple the higher I climb, and finally I come to a stop. I spin so my back is against the trunk and weep silently into my knees. I can't stop the flashes. When I close my eyes, I see the light of the bulb and it takes me back to another picture, another horror, another intimate moment exposed. I am hyperventilating, partly from running and partly from fear, but I cannot breathe and I gasp in between involuntary sobs. _I cannot do this. I cannot do this._

I shift to anger. I vacillate between emotions for hours. I remember begrudging my mother for spending weeks after my father's death practically catatonic, but I inherited her predisposition for mental retreat. I can spend a day in a closet. I'll likely spend all day in this tree. I lose time.

When I hear my name being shouted from a distance, I don't react. I climb higher, too precariously for rational thought, and wrap my body around the trunk. I close my eyes. I will myself to be absorbed into this tree. It's starting to get cold, but I don't feel it. My fingers grow numb, and I hope the rest of me does too. I want to be numb. I hear voices again, familiar and foreign at the same time. I'm not here.

"Come on, kid, we'll come back out in the morning," Haymitch says.

"I'm not leaving here without her!" Peeta snaps back. His voice is desperate and worn. I should feel bad, but I can't feel anything but the wind whispering through the tops of the trees.

"I checked the cabin by the lake," Gale says as he approaches the group. "She's not there."

Peeta lets out a sigh of exacerbation. He is struggling to maintain his composure, but the uncertainty is corroding his strength. Something in me stirs, but it's fleeting and I focus on the feeling of the bark on my cheek.

"She will be okay out here. She knows these woods," Gale says, patting his shoulder. Peeta shrugs him off.

"She wasn't in a good frame of mind, Gale," he says back. I look up and see the moon is beaming down on us. The woods appear enchanted, almost. The moon casts crooked shadows from the trees. Everything below becomes blurry. I'm not really listening anymore, though I can hear their muffled voices volley back and forth. I don't realize Johanna is climbing until I feel the tree sway beneath me. When she reaches me, I'm not here, not really.

"I got you, stupid," she whispers to me. She touches my cheek and I come tumbling back to reality. A watershed bursts, and I am sobbing into her arms. I hear the voices below silence, and when I peer down I see all of them straining to look up. We are too high to see, but with the glow pouring down I can make out Peeta's blonde curls, iridescent in the moonlight's radiance. It's only then that they realize Johanna had ducked away. She's the only one that could have reached me anyway. She presses her forehead into mine and we stay here for a while. "You are freezing," she whispers, wraps her coat around me. She takes my hands in hers and breathes warm air onto them. She rubs her hands over mine. She's home up here, too. "I know this is your safe place, but it's time to come down." I nod slowly.

Johanna climbs down first, deft in her route. She knows trees - how the grow, how they move, where they are strong and where they give. She doesn't even really need to look. I climb behind her, hang from the bottom branch and drop to the ground. Immediately Peeta has wrapped his arms around me.

"She's so cold," he says. He's not addressing me, or anyone in particular. He takes his jacket off too, and wraps it over Johanna's. He holds me tight and pulls my head into his chest. I just stand there. I'm not crying. I just am. I feel Peeta's warmth and I relax into it. "You want to go home?" he asks me quietly. I nod my head yes. He wraps an arm around my waist and we walk. Johanna nabs my other side and we head out of the woods. Gale takes the lead and Haymitch trails behind. I'm so tired.

"I don't think you should go home, kid," Haymitch says from the rear. "Effie said she saw reporters all over Victor's Village."

"They could stay at Katniss's old place," Johanna suggests.

"No," I say quietly. It's the only thing I say to them all night.

"They can stay at my old house. In the Seam. It's a mess, but the chimney is still standing so they should be fine until we figure out something different tomorrow," Gale suggests. The group nods and we make our way out of the woods. It takes almost two hours walking. I hadn't realized I'd run so far. I still feel a bit like I'm in a trance, but the warmer I get the more alive I feel. The more I hurt. They drop us off, and Gale promises to return with some supplies.

I walk into the old Hawthorne house. It feels strange. I've spent years of my life here, between Hazel's dinners, waiting for Gale, playing with Posy... but it doesn't feel like the same place. It feels cold, and dead, and full of ghosts, just like everything else in District 12. My mind drifts to this morning, and how happy everything was, and I wonder how this can even be the same day. How I can even be the same flirty, buoyant girl that I was.

But I know what happened. My sense of security shattered when I saw that flash. I got careless and let my guard down. Every wall I'd let fall threw itself back up, reinforced with steel and fear.

The second floor is not habitable, so Peeta makes camp on the floor of the kitchen. Gale knocks a few minutes later. He's brought supplies - clothes to sleep in, water, some light food, blankets. I hear them murmuring together. They aren't being secretive, I just can't focus enough to make out individual words. I feel Gale's hand on my shoulder, and he's gone. Peeta wraps me in blankets and makes me drink water. I lay down in front of the fire. He's keeping his distance physically. He knows I'm processing the day, and I can tell it's killing him not touch me, but he knows it's what I need. I love that he knows that about me.

Love. I lift my blanket and invite Peeta in. He's hesitant, and I feel like we are reliving Tigris's basement. He's afraid he'll hurt me if he pushes too hard. I feel like our lives are intertwined in a continual cycle of loops - arenas, trains, beaches, blankets, fire. Every part spinning and repeating and cycling back through. There is one constant. Peeta. By my side through it all.

He joins me under the blankets and I pull his body into mine. I tangle our legs and press my chest against his. I knot my fingers in his hair and I feel his hands mirror mine. He ducks his head into my shoulder and I feel him exhale a shaky breath. "I lost you," he breathes into me.

I squeeze my arms tighter around him. I'm here now. I'm grounded in the peaceful, quiet nights that only Peeta brings. He pulls me in closer, so I can feel his heart pounding against my chest. His breathing still quakes on its way in, and I can tell he's fighting back a sob. I've never been good with words, not like him.

I pull my head back until our mouths are barely apart. I place a delicate kiss on his lips. His eyes are full of doubt, and his face looks like he has to ask a question he doesn't want to know the answer. I meet his eyes dead on. "You're stuck with me, Mellark."

I finally feel him breathe.


	29. Chapter 29

The next morning my head is a lot clearer. I didn't sleep great the night before, dreaming of flashing bulbs and death, but the distance gives me some clarity. It's early, and Peeta is still sleeping. His body is wrapped around mine, and I just lay there on the floor of the Hawthorne home, gently scratching his back under his shirt. The Hawthorne kitchen looks the same as mine did. All the Seam houses were the same. The walls are scorched from the firebombing. Most of the furniture is overturned. Pots and pans are scattered on the floor. The Hawthornes had a second floor due to the size of their family, which ours did not. What used to be the stairs are splintered and broken. I'm surprised the crews haven't demolished the site yet in the rebuilding efforts, but both my and Gale's houses were on the edge of the Seam. I'm sure they'll get there eventually.

Peeta stirs and wraps his arms tighter around me. The air outside our blankets is still cool; it's a late fall morning and the fire burned out hours ago. We are just two burned kids sleeping the shell of a burned out house. "Morning," I hear Peeta mumble and I look down to see his blue eyes looking at mine.

"Morning," I reply, and bury my face in his chest.

"How are you doing?" he asks, unweaving my braid and letting my hair loose. He runs his fingers through it gently.

"Better," I say. He pulls me into a tight embrace. "I'm so sorry, Peeta."

"You don't have anything to be sorry about. You don't get mad at me when I flashback," he says. "It's no different."

"It is different. The Capitol messed with you. They rewired your brain. You can't help what happened to you. I'm just weak." I am ashamed with myself for being no better than my mother. For worrying everyone. For fleeing instead of grabbing that camera and smashing it to pieces on the ground.

"You aren't weak. You can't help what happened to you, either. You are shell-shocked. It's a miracle that any of us are even alive right now. Look how few Victors there are left. We're fighters. We're survivors." He's trying to comfort me but I'm indignant.

"We're alive because other people sacrificed themselves for us. Boggs. Finnick. The Morphling… I still don't even know her name! I'm just going to refer to her by her weakest attribute for the rest of my life when she literally died to save you. What kind of person am I? Was I really worth saving?" I'm sitting up now, ranting and angry.

"Brier."

"What?" I say, harsher than I meant to. Peeta looks at his hands.

"The Morphling. Her name was Brier." We are both quiet for bit.

"Some days, I just don't think I deserve to be here."

"Me too," he replies. "But I'm glad I am."

We sit talking the rest of the morning. We talk about all the different flashes I saw. We play real or not real. We talk about the proposal. He tells me he remembers being nervous, even though he knew it wasn't real. He remembers he had a hard time swallowing. Other things he doesn't remember as well. Some memories are still shiny. The Victory Tour is very blurry - he has a hard time discerning districts and events and the order of things in general. Eventually, Peeta gets evasive. He's not asking questions anymore, instead he's changing the topic or doubling back on something we already discussed. I think I know where this is headed.

I take his hand, "Peeta, just ask me," I whisper.

I can see him struggling. I feel his hands sweat, and he pulls them from mine and wipes them on his pants. They are shaking and he's trying to hide it.

"Peeta." I put my hand on his cheek and he brings his eyes to mine.

"Was… there was never a baby," he states as if he knows, but he wishes he didn't.

I try to be as soothing as I can be and leave my reticence behind. "No, there was never a baby."

"I don't know how to explain this, but I feel like I'm grieving a baby that never existed. I knew it wasn't real, I knew before you said that, but somewhere I just pictured a girl with grey eyes, and a blonde braid bouncing on her back."

I've never wanted kids, but I know what he means. The loss of my not-real baby was heartbreaking for me too. They announced my miscarriage soon after we lost Peeta to the Capitol. It was almost like I was clinging to a part of him, a part that was both of us, even if it was imaginary. When I told the people in the District 8 hospital that I'd lost my baby, I saw the anguish I felt reflected back to me in their eyes. And I saw their resolve against the Capitol harden. Mine did too. They took Peeta, they took everything we had together - whether it was real, or not real, or one-sided, or maybe I just didn't know what it was yet, but regardless of what it was, they took everything without discrimination. Even our baby.

My anger about the cameras rears back. I'm done having things taken from me. I know this regime is better. I know seeing Peeta and I together, frozen in a moment of comfort, was probably healing for many people. That moment, on the floor of what was his bakery, captured in one image what so many of us are feeling. Death. Rebirth. Loss. Growth. Fear. Resolve. Solace. Sympathy. Partnership. Dependence. Love. That's it's okay to remember, and grieve. But that it's also okay to move on.

Fine. They can have that moment. But that's it. No more.

Soon Gale and Johanna show up, followed by Effie and Haymitch. Delly is manning the village, distracting the reporters… chatting about doilies, I'm sure. Gale is clearly uncomfortable here. His family decided not to come back to 12. Hazel says doesn't want to pull the kids out of school, but I'm sure she feels haunted by this place, just like the hundreds of others that stayed away. The District 12 survivors fall in two camps - those too pained to come back, and those too pained to leave. It may be pain that brought us here, but the residents of 12 are building something beautiful together. It's cooperative. It heals. We are finding happiness in our shared experiences. We plant gardens and build shops. We raise children and mend fences. We are boring in our motony, and we thrive in it. We don't need the prying eyes of the Capitol putting us on the defensive.

I remind myself the Capitol is not what it was before. It is a government elected by the people, working for us to mend the nation. Each district is piece of an intricate puzzle, weaving us together and encouraging our uniqueness. Each district is allowed some autonomy, with a local government. Democracy. But democracy does not negate the need for appearance. For politics. For showmanship. For propos. For a carefully crafted message that isn't exactly dishonest, but isn't entirely truthful either.

I'm frustrated this is still part of my life. I don't want to be embroiled in the growing pains of a new nation. I want to hunt on Sunday with Gale. I want to watch Effie paint Delly's toe nails. I want to watch Johanna and Gale bicker. I want to watch Haymitch beat Peeta at chess over and over again. I want to spend every morning, every night, with Peeta.

"So, what are we going to do about the insects?" Johanna asks. I have to laugh. I always thought Castor and Pollux looked like shelled beetles in their camera gear. It's eerie how similar Johanna and I are sometimes.

"I confess, I feel rather guilty about this whole affair," Effie concedes in her clipped Capitol accent. "When we were in the Capitol, Plutarch mentioned he wanted to come do filming in 12. I didn't realize he meant immediately. He implied they were doing pieces on each of the districts, so naturally I thought we had time, being in 12."

"Let's not focus on who's to blame. Let's figure out how to get rid of them," Peeta says, taking Effie's hand.

"So they're here shooting footage and photos for Plutarch? About what exactly?" Gale asks.

"He's doing a portrait of each district. Rebuilding efforts, a who's who of the local government, and highlighting any _notable_ citizens. A 'where are they now' so to say," Effie tells us. It sounds harmless enough, if I wasn't so traumatized by cameras I seize up. "The Mockingjay is a highly anticipated segment."

"Don't they all think I'm crazy and unstable or something?" I rant.

"You aren't?" Johanna taunts me playfully.

"I just mean… I killed Coin. I'm not a hero anymore."

"You will always be a hero, sweetheart," Haymitch says. "I don't think you give the people of Panem enough credit. They trust you. They took the excuse the Capitol gave for your actions because they had to, but a lot of people believe that if you thought Coin had to go, she had to go. The Capitol Hunger Games were not popular. Maybe in concept, some people agreed, but when we all saw those children herded together at the Reaping, it felt wrong. It felt dirty. It made us no better than Snow. The War was over, people weren't bloodthirsty or vengeful anymore. No one wanted to see children butchered, they wanted to move on. _You_ stopped the Games. _You_ gave Panem the clean slate it needed."

I let this sink in. "So they don't think I'm crazy?"

"No one thinks you're crazy. We all just let the propaganda machine do its magic, because we are a country of laws now, and we needed to show justice was done," Haymitch replies. He's quiet for a minute, ruminating over whether he should go on. "Look, I've been told there is some unrest over things in 13. Coin meant more to them than she did the rest of Panem. She was their leader for a long time. But they are regimented people. They follow rules, and order is being offered by the Capitol, so they take it."

"What do you mean, unrest?" Gale asks.

"Delly could tell us more about it. She was there when the assassination happened. There was a small group of people in 13 who were caught plotting - against Katniss, against the Capitol. Planning bombings and attempting to undermine the new government. Tracking Katniss's whereabouts. Believing 13 should be the new center of Panem. It's part of the reason we moved Katniss to 12. It's a small district. We know when outsiders arrive. She's surrounded by people we know." Haymitch looks at me. "I'm not your guardian to keep you in line, I'm your guardian to keep you safe."

"Wait, so when Effie came to 12…" Peeta starts.

"There were threats made on your life. People thought you might have been complicit, or even an accomplice in the assassination." Peeta is stunned. Haymitch groans. "We are getting off topic. This isn't what we are here to discuss. These cameras aren't from 13."

"Well, you can't drop that in our laps and expect us to forget it!" I say. I'm frustrated. "I thought we were past this, Haymitch." This must be what Peeta felt like in the attic in District 11. When he realized he was being kept in the dark.

Haymitch's face turns grim. "One thing at a time. Right now, we've got a bunch of new faces in 12, and I don't know who they all are. We need to focus on how to get rid of these cameras."


	30. Chapter 30

Gale, Johanna, Haymitch, and Effie return to Victor's Village. The plan is underway. Haymitch will place calls to both Plutarch and Cressida. Delly will continue day getting "acquainted" with the reporters… and mining for information. Their names, family members, where they live. It is quite easy to get Capitol people to babble on endlessly about themselves. She will simply nod and feign fascination, all the while keeping a running inventory in her head. Her gift for names, dates, people, and faces is actually quite remarkable, and fortuitously convenient. She will then convey every detail to Effie, who will spend afternoon on the phone with old Capitol friends, confirming people are who they say they are. Gale will offer to do an interview with them as an elected official, hopefully occupy their attention away from Peeta and me for a while. If needed, Johanna has offered to cause a distraction. The plan should buy us at least a day.

Meanwhile, Peeta and I stay out of the Village. We decide to duck away to woods. I feel more at peace here, safer almost. We stroll, not in a hurry to get anywhere. I point out different plants, and Peeta sketches some on a scrap piece of paper to add to the plant book later. It's too cold to swim at the lake, so instead I take Peeta to the place where Gale and I meet up on Sundays.

My time with Gale in the woods feels like things used to before everything happened, except instead of Gale angrily ranting about the Capitol, we talk about dinner, or something Johanna said, or where we might find blueberries for Peeta to make muffins. There's no fear out here anymore. No worry about being executed for poaching, or whether we will find enough to keep our families alive. Sunday dinner is always the biggest meal of the week, and we try to clean whatever game we catch out here to save Peeta time in the kitchen. Delly has taken up making Sunday dessert. She's got quite a sweet tooth.

I tell Peeta a story about Gale trying to catch fish with his bare hands in the brook that runs off the lake. Peeta laughs as I reenact Gale's expression when he came up with a tree branch instead of a trout. A slight breeze picks up and Peeta wraps me into his arms. I lean back into his chest and close my eyes. I feel the sunlight flicker beneath my eyelids as shadows from the leaves dance across my face in the wind.

"Fall is my favorite time of year," Peeta confides. "I can't get enough of the leaves. The scarlet of the oaks, the happy yellows of the birches. The maples in fire red, or gold, or burnt orange… I feel like I could find every shade of fire in the trees."

He unpacks our lunch and we munch on hard cheese and apples.

"I bet Cinna would love it out here. I could see him spending hours watching the wind rustles through the trees, and then creating a dresses that swishes like leaves when you walk." I smile.

"Johanna would have loved that. She was so tired of being dressed like a literal tree." We both laugh remembering her envy over Cinna's designs. I can even laugh about her stripping down in the elevator, though at the time I wanted to ring her neck.

I miss Cinna.

"What do you think happens after you die?" I ask Peeta. He's quiet for a moment.

"I'd like to think that everything is quiet, and peaceful, and everyone you've lost is there. And that everything that hurt about being alive is relieved, but that everything that felt wonderful is elevated." He's almost whispering. "I can't wait to see my dad."

I push his shoulder. "You can wait," I say. He laughs.

"That's not what I meant," he says, smiling. It fades. "I just… I miss him so much."

"I'd like to think they are still with us, we just aren't together." I don't know how to explain what I mean. I'm not good with words. I'm still for a moment, thinking, and Peeta weaves his fingers through mine. "I feel my father when I'm out here. And Rue. I hope, when I die, it's like this forest. Beautiful and bright. And that I'm here, but not here."

When I hear a twig crack, my hunter's instinct go into overdrive. I spin around, pushing Peeta behind me. A woman is standing across from us in the woods. Her eyes are wild, and yet dead at the same time. I've seen that look in my own eyes. It comes from hurt. It comes from pain. It comes from losing someone you love. She's dressed like she's from the Capitol, but none of it is quite right. Her face is painted but her fingernails are plain and unadorned. Her hair is a fantastic neon blue, but her clothes are dull and gray. Her shoes are sensible, flat, ill-fitting. She's not from the Capitol. I catch the glint of metal in her hand as she raises a gun.

Everything slows down. I feel Peeta throw his body in front of me. I see the bullet pierce his torso and exit through his back. It leaves a tiny hole in his shirt, which quickly turns red. I watch the tiny crimson circle fan out, and I feel a burning in my abdomen and drop to the ground. Peeta falls. The woman flees back through the woods, and I hear a sharp pop.

Something is wrong. I've been shot, I know that, but I'm not in pain. Everything below my chest is numb. Peeta rolls toward me. He coughs, and blood spatters from his mouth. His eyes lock onto mine. I feel the blood draining from my face, my limbs, pooling in my stomach and staining the forest floor. I see Peeta looking at me, clutching his chest and taking me in.

"How are you?" he asks, his voice shaking on each word. His voice sounds like he's gargling.

"I feel so cold," I shiver and feel a tear drip down my face. I didn't think we'd end here like this, cold and bleeding and numb in a pile of leaves. But I always knew it would be us. Together. With that, Peeta presses his hands to the ground and pushes his body up. He screams out in pain. I feel my body convulsing now. "Where are you going?" I cry.

"Help," he manages to spurt out. He leans forward and kisses me. It feels like goodbye, and my heart is fighting it. He gags and spits more blood onto the ground.

"No!" I beg. "No, Peeta. Please don't go."

"I have to," he says. His skin looks gray. "No one will find you out here."

"It doesn't matter now." Even these few words exhaust me. I can feel sleep tugging at me, and Peeta shakes me.

"No. Don't do this. Stay awake!" He's begging me. I force my eyes open and look at his face. He kisses my mouth again and it takes like iron. Then he forces himself up and turns to go.

"Peeta!" I sob. He walks away from me. "Peeta!" I plead. "Stay with me." He stops, and twists his body to look back at me. I can see the anguish in his eyes. I see his resolve break... almost.

"I can't," he says, and he turns and stumbles away. I scream his name until I run out of breath. I lay on the floor of the forest. I feel the pine needles under my hands. I smell the woods. I try to stay alert, but slumber is creeping up on me, and it's peaceful, and I slip under. Here, but not here.


	31. Chapter 31

"Catnip. Come on, Katniss, come on. Come back to me." I open my eyes but nothing comes into focus. The words sound muffled like I'm underwater. "Can you walk with me?" Gale's voice pierces its way into my reality. I shake my head. I can't feel my feet. "Come on then, wrap your arms around my neck." I comply, and Gale lifts me into the air. I feel dizzy, and I vomit on his chest. I try to formulate words of remorse, but I can't. The sun seems low in the sky. I'm supposed to be in the woods. That's where I'm going to go when…

I wake up in a sterile hospital room. Even though I'm disoriented, I've become familiar with this setting over the past few years. There is a tube in my throat. I hear the clicking and buzzing of machines. I fight the tube, and they put something in my IV. I go back under.

When I wake again I'm restrained. My mother is asleep in the chair next to my bed. Gale is propped in the corner, his head hanging as he bobs in and out of waking. His shirt is covered in blood and sick. I doze off.

The next time I come to, I hear crying. I'm too tired to open my eyes. I know the voices.

"What the hell happened, Gale?" I hear Johanna sob into his chest. "It's all over the news." She describes the story. Gale is interviewing with a reporter on his new job as District 12 Senator when Peeta staggers out of the woods. Gale runs to him, Peeta collapses at his feet and whispers something to Gale. Gale takes off sprinting into the woods. A hovercraft appears, and Peeta is loaded onto a stretcher and taken away. Some time passes, and then Gale emerges from the woods, carrying me in his arms. My mother is there. They load me onto a second hovercraft and then the coverage shifts to a reporter, who states both the Mockingjay and Peeta are in critical condition.

"He said Katniss was at our hunting spot in the woods. I just tried to get there as fast as I could. I could feel my heart beating out of my chest and I was trying not to throw up. I know the way, but I couldn't have mistaken it. Peeta's blood was everywhere, all the way to her. She was totally out of it when I got there. I just tried to get her back as fast as I could." Gale breathes in a shaky breath.

"So they were shot? That's what the news is saying," Johanna asks.

"That's what it looked like," he replies.

"How is that possible? Some kind of hunting accident?" she says again.

"Katniss doesn't use guns to hunt. Someone must have followed them out to the woods." They are both silent for a bit. I want them to talk more about Peeta, but I slip back under.

The next time I wake, Gale is sitting in the corner again. He's changed clothes. "Hey," he whispers as he approaches my bed. I feel myself choking up and the tube makes me gag. Tears pour out of my eyes and my nose fills with snot. I feel like I can't breathe, which is ridiculous because there is a machine breathing for me. I shouldn't be this lucid. I want the tube out. I don't need words to communicate to Gale.

"Let me wake your mom up and see if we can get that out now."

I nod my head furiously. Gale leans over my mother, and shakes her gently. When she sees me awake she rushes to my bedside.

"She wants to tube out. Can we do that?" Gale asks. She checks some levels on the machines.

"Yes," my mother nods. I see her face set, and she's ready to work. She pulls a tray next to the bed and meticulously organizes the tools. She stands over me. "You may feel like you have to cough. Go ahead." She counts to three and pulls the tube from my throat.

I'm sputtering and coughing. "Peeta…" I choke out.

Gale takes my hand in his. "He's in 13. He wasn't stable enough to transport to 4." My eyes nearly explode from my head. I try to vocalize my panic, but my voice is hoarse and the air just isn't cooperating. They'll try to kill him. He can't be in 13.

"I spoke with the Mayor in 13 myself. They have him under armed guard. Most people in 13 still remember when he saved their lives. They don't want any harm to come to him. Effie and Delly went with him. You know Effie won't let them touch a hair on his head," Gale tries to calm me down.

She won't. He's right. Effie would claw their eyes out with her fake nails before she'd let anyone near him.

I ask with my eyes. "He's alright, Katniss," my mother says. "The bullet went completely through. No fragments were found in his body, which is good. His lung was penetrated and he had damage to his esophagus and trachea, but those things can be repaired once we get him to 4. They are still stabilizing him. He's just a tricky case because we don't know how his heart will react to certain medications. We have to take every precaution in his treatment."

I nod. Peeta's alive. She tries to tell me about my condition, but I don't really care. My mother can see my mind wandering, and tries to get my attention.

"The bullet was lodged against your vertebra. The doctors were able to repair the nerve damage, but you will likely need intensive physical therapy. Your legs won't cooperate right away." I just sit there, staring at the wall. "Katniss," my mom says gently, taking my hand. "We lost one of your ovaries, and there was some damage to your uterus. We've repaired what we could, but I don't know what the long-term implications of that are."

I am overwhelmed by a mix of emotions I'm not articulate enough to describe. I've never wanted kids, but I eased the loss of my not-real baby by telling myself I could always have a real one someday, if I ever changed my mind. I think about the girl Peeta described, with the stone gray eyes and straw-colored hair, running around our yard with her hair twisted in a braid. I've been calling her Lily in my head. I haven't told Peeta that. I cry silently to myself. Gale steps out, and Johanna crawls in bed with me. My mom hovers, adjusting tubes and things, but eventually she leaves too. Johanna weaves her fingers in mine and nuzzles her face into my neck.

"Let's focus on the good right now. You are here. You are going to be fine. Peeta will be here soon, and they will repair his gorgeous chest and then you two can boink until you make a baby. And if you can't, I'll just give you one of mine. We won't tell anybody. I'll go on a trip, and you'll stuff a watermelon under your shirt, and no one will ever know." As foreign as it feels, I start to chuckle.

"You don't think they will catch on when I birth a watermelon?" I ask.

"No, I think they will catch on when her first word is 'asshole' and she cuts off the heads of all her toys with an axe," Johanna laughs.

That night, Peeta arrives in 4. I'm finally able to stay awake. I spent most of the day drifting in and out, not really able to grasp what was going on or remember what I said. I ask to see Peeta, but I'm told he was wheeled directly into surgery. My entire crew waits it out in my room. The nurses try to make everyone leave, but asking a group of Victors to do anything they don't want to is just about impossible. I remind myself how cyclical my life is… how only a few months ago, we were all sitting quietly in my kitchen, putting together jigsaw puzzles waiting for word on Peeta.

Effie and Delly tell us about 13. Delly reenacts Effie chasing off a man with a syringe who turned out to be a nurse. Effie blushes. "He certainly didn't look like a nurse!" Gale sits on the floor with his back on the wall, Johanna between his legs. Haymitch is quiet and avoids looking at me. I can feel his guilt permeating the room. I want to comfort him, but I'm not emotionally equipped to handle that right now. Delly sits on the end of my bed and smiles at me. She is too bright, and too perky, but she's weaseled her way into my heart and my family, and I'm so glad she is here. If Johanna is my sister, Delly is Peeta's.

Hours pass. Effie, who didn't dare sleep in 13, finally dozes off in the chair next to my bed. I spend some time looking at her. Her chocolate hair is draped across her face. This is the first time she's left 12 without a wig. This is just who Effie is now. Her lips are stained a deep burgundy, and her pale skin almost looks like porcelain. Her eyelashes are long and tickle her face when she stirs. Her spiked heels lay on the floor in front of her, and she's curled into a ball with her bare feet tucked in the arm of the chair. I remember how irritating I used to find Effie. How irritating she used to be. She was flighty, and overbearing, and completely intolerable at times. But she loves Peeta. And she loves me, too.

Delly is sleeping curled up at my feet. She reminds me of Buttercup a little, if Buttercup were pleasant and optimistic, instead of mangey and practically feral. Johanna is wrapped in Gale's arms, and his head is resting on top of hers. Haymitch is awake. He stands in the corner, staring at the machines that wheeze and beep next to my bed. I try to catch his eye.

"So that's why you stayed sober?" I ask. He doesn't look at me. "Because you were keeping an eye out for me?"

"Yeah, well, I load of good that did. You almost died," he grumbles.

"Haymitch…"

"You know, I've spent every moment of the last few years thinking about you. All the time. How to keep you safe. How to protect you. How to get you sponsors. How you should walk, and talk, and what to say. How to keep you from getting yourself killed with your arrogance and stupidity. You aren't easy to keep, sweetheart," he says.

"I know," I say back.

"You are always getting into trouble. Sacrificing yourself. Running in front of bullets and fireballs. Putting the kid's life ahead of your own. And Prim's. And Rue's. Dammit, Katniss, I think you'd sacrifice yourself for a dust bunny if it seemed innocent enough to you." He lets it sit in the air. "But this time… I should have seen this coming. I could have gotten you killed."

"Haymitch, this isn't on you. We were supposed to stay at Gale's," I say. "And Peeta wouldn't want you beating yourself up either."

He melts a little. "I didn't even realize you had left." He's trying to keep his composure. "It was Mitchell's wife. They found her in the woods, a few dozen yards from you. She'd killed herself."

The words just hang between us. "Peeta can never know," I say.

"We can't do that again, sweetheart," he says back.

A moment later, a crew of medical professionals wheel a bed into the room. Peeta is asleep, more machines than I have clicking and buzzing at his side. He looks terrible, but he looks very much alive. Everyone is up. Effie is at his side immediately, stroking his face and whispering soothing words. Johanna grabs his hand, rubbing his wrist in concentric circles with her thumb. Delly is fixing his hair, which is laughable in a moment like this, but she preens and pushes it out of his eyes. Gale sits on the end of my bed and takes my hand. Haymitch doesn't leave the corner.

I want out of this stupid bed, but my legs aren't playing along. Suddenly I feel my bed moving, and Gale and Johanna are pushing our beds together. One of the nurses tries to scold them, but Johanna gives her a well-practiced glare and she backs off. I weave my fingers in with Peeta's, and I feel him squeeze my hand.


	32. Chapter 32

It takes a few hours, but Peeta finally comes to. His breathing tube is removed. The nurses have set up cots for everyone in the waiting room across the hall, and our family files out after many embraces and soft words. We can hear them laughing, the stress of the last few days dissipating. It sounds like Johanna has squirted toothpaste in Delly's hair, and Delly, ever the optimist, is trying to enumerate on the many benefits of mint on hair vitality while Effie frets at it with a wet paper towel. They close the door, and finally it's just me and Peeta.

"Hey stranger," he says hoarsely. He has to wear an oxygen mask on his face until his right lung is fully recovered, but I can see him smile underneath it.

"Hey," I say back. My voice sounds like gravel. Peeta strokes my hand with his. I'm still so mad that he left me, but I understand why he did what he did. I probably would have bled out before anyone found me. I think Peeta thought he was dead either way, but he wasn't about to let me drift away in a forest. If the situation were reversed, I would have run for help, too.

"You just had to go get a matching bullet hole, huh?" he chokes out, with a lopsided grin. "Saw mine and just got jealous?"

"We are a matching set," I whisper. He wants to know how I am. "Well, my mom says it's going to take some physical therapy to get me walking again, but all the nerve damage was repaired, so I'll recover eventually. It's just reteaching the pathways what they do," I explain. I'm not sure what to tell him about the rest. I just decide to get it over with. "She also said that the bullet cut through my uterus and I lost an ovary. They don't know what that means if I ever want to…" I just get quiet. I bat a tear away from my eye and try to turn my face. I don't want Peeta to see me crying over this.

"Hey," he says, squeezing my hand. "It will be alright. Even if you can't… you know… if you ever wanted to be a mom, we could always adopt."

"I've been thinking we may need to adopt Johanna," I joke, and he smiles at me. "What's this we business, anyway? What vested interest do you have in my womb?" I keep it light.

"Katniss," he says, leaning into me, "I have a _very_ vested interest in your womb." He kisses me gently, then falls back to his bed, panting. He replaces the oxygen mask. The whole movement was exhausting, and soon he is drifting back to sleep, leaving me with my thoughts.

I know I don't want kids now. But I'm not so sure I don't want kids ever. I could see Peeta, maybe a decade down the road, trying to knead bread in his bakery with a rugrat sitting on his foot, begging for a ride on his false leg. Peeta pretending to shake her off, and the girl hanging on for dear life as he rattles her until they both fall to the floor, dizzy and laughing. I could see him tickle her belly, and I can hear her chortle as her grey eyes lock on his. Not today, but maybe someday… I drift off, too.

The next morning, the first visitor in our room is Annie. Her auburn hair curls delicately around her shoulders, and she smiles quietly at us. I ask about her baby, but she's left him home. She thinks the hospital is too full of germs. I agree, and ask if she can break me out. She laughs, and shows us pictures of her son, Finn. He looks so much like Finnick it makes my chest ache. Annie and Peeta talk. They've shared a special bond since their _time in the Capitol_. When Johanna sneaks in, the three of them are thick as thieves. I decide to nap.

A while later, I hear my mom come into the room. Peeta has dozed off, and I keep my eyes closed. She and Annie are conversing. They laugh and speak in shorthand. It's obvious they are very close. I want to feel happy for them - two widows, finding solace and love in friendship, much like I have with my makeshift family. Instead though, I feel envy. My mom decided not to be with me, yet here she is, a surrogate mother to another Victor wounded by the war. She's moved on from the burned up daughter with her husband's eyes. Bile rises in my throat and I swallow it bitterly. My mother leaves and I let my breath calm me. When I open my eyes a while later, I observe the small, intricate braid that frames Annie's face. I hadn't noticed it before. I recognize the work my mom's nimble fingers. I try not to resent her. Finnick wouldn't want that. I wish Gale were here. He'd understand.

Annie is so gentle and sweet, it's hard to stay angry with her for long. I don't even know how she manages to breathe after what she's been through. She is incredibly brave. It is obvious it's her son that drives her forward, whom she doesn't ever stop talking about. She truly seems happy when describing his favorite food, or the way his lips purse in his sleep, like Finnick's used to. They go to the beach nearly every day, and Finn is natural in the water. He stays in until his lips turn purple and Annie has to haul him out by the arm, his chin chattering.

I meet with doctors and begin a physical therapy regimen. My family refuses to leave 4 until I do, so they end up crashing with Annie. Peeta grows stronger every day. It takes me about two weeks before I can walk, and almost a month to do so without support. Johanna attends every therapy session and pushes me through. After I struggled through my first session, she a made a joke that Peeta and I should join a traveling freakshow. _Come see the scarred couple with only one working leg between them!_ I laugh. Having her coach me through therapy reminds me of our training in 13, and I think about how far she's come. The doctors say it may be months before I'm back to running in the woods. That's okay. I think the woods and I need a break for a little while.

One night, Annie takes the family out to experience "the real 4." She tells them about a local spot where they play music, and you can eat salty seafood and drink salty liquor and dance until your skin is covered in a salty sweat. It sounds wonderful, but Peeta and I are grateful for some alone time. I crawl in his bed, leaving mine vacant, as it has been most nights. The bed is tiny, and our bodies press together, but I revel in every inch of his skin I can feel against mine. It's early, but I'm ready for this long day to be over. My therapists really pushed me today, and my legs have been quivering most of the evening. I'm tired of this place. The smell. The food. My mother. I'm ready to go home, so I'm throwing every effort into the therapy. Effie comments how much better I'm doing than when I tried to walk in heels the first time, and I scowl. She smiles right back.

Peeta strokes my hair and we watch the sun set through the hospital window. We have a beautiful view of the ocean, which actually seems like a cruel reminder that the world outside is stunning and I'm in here.

"How well do you remember the roof?" I ask. Peeta smiles.

"Bits and pieces. I remember feeling… safe. And happy. But I don't remember a lot of the details," he says. Each time Peeta tells me he doesn't remember something, it's like a tiny devastation in my heart. I try not to show it, but I can tell he feels the same way. "Tell me about it?" he asks.

"Well, it was the morning before the interviews. Effie and Haymitch had given us the day off," I say.

"Why would they do that?" he asks.

"Oh, they were livid about our performance in front of the Gamemakers." I pause for a moment. "When you told me you painted Rue… that you held them accountable, if only for that one fleeting moment… I never looked at you the same." I can't believe I'm saying any of this. I hate stuff like this, but this last month has been awful and I know it will make him feel better. "I already knew I was going die for you in the Arena. I wanted to save you more than anything. Even though I knew my death would destroy my family, I didn't care. I couldn't think about anything else. I just said goodbye to it all, and took your hand. Anyway, when you told me you painted Rue… something in me just… lit. I think that's when I knew. It's not when I admitted it to myself, but that's when I knew."

"Knew what?" he asks.

"That we could never be just friends." I say. He pulls my hand to his mouth and kisses my palm through a grin. I clear my throat. "That next day on the roof, I just let myself be with you. It was like this tiny slice of paradise in the midst of chaos. We had a picnic. You sketched. We played a game with the force field. We watched the sun set." I look out the window again.

"I wish I could freeze that moment in time," he breathes, and I smile. I lean forward and lightly sweep my lips across his. I feel his hands on my waist, and he shifts my body on top of his. I moan quietly in his ear as he kisses my jaw. My hands linger at the hem of his shirt, my fingers sweeping the skin of his stomach.

"Ahem," a man clears his throat and enters our room unceremoniously. When I see his face, I pick up a plastic pitcher of water from the tray next to our bed and throw it at his head. It splashes at his feet and he wipes the front of his shirt. I am seething.

"Get. Out." I growl.

"It's lovely to see you too, Miss Everdeen," Plutarch replies.


	33. Chapter 33

Plutarch bends down to pick up the pitcher from the floor. A nurse rushes in and asks if everything is OK. "Delightful, thank you. And aren't you just so charming for checking in on us?" He flatters the woman until she's blushing and closing the door behind her.

"You have some nerve showing up here," I spit at him.

"I sincerely don't understand the hostility, Katniss," he states as he rolls a chair next to our bed and takes a seat. I extricate myself from Peeta and sit to face him.

"You sent those cameras in. You knew about the threats on our lives, and you flooded District 12 with foreign faces. You gave that woman a means to an end. You knew about the unrest in 13! What were you thinking?" I glare at him.

"I couldn't possibly have known that Mitchell's wife was going to use the camera crews as a facade to get in 12. I hadn't even announced the series publicly," he replies.

"You were bragging about it, because you can't help but bask in the limelight. You told Effie. Who else did you tell?" I seethe.

From behind me, I hear Peeta breathe, barely above a whisper, "Mitchell's wife?" I turn back to look at him, and his eyes betray the pain percolating beneath the surface. "Then, this is my fault." I see him retreat inward. I want to send an arrow into Plutarch's chest.

I take Peeta's face in my hands. "This is not your fault."

Peeta shakes his head and forces my hands away. "I killed him, Katniss. I killed him. And then his wife shows up and you almost died!" He's pulling at his hair now. "Do they even know where she is? Is she okay?!" he pleads.

"She's dead," Plutarch states matter-of-factly. "Her body was found only yards from yours in the woods. It looks like a self-inflicted gunshot wound."

"I'm going to be sick," Peeta states, pushing himself up and away from the bed. He retreats into the bathroom and I hear him vomiting in the toilet. I creep in behind him and rub his back as he rests his head on his knees, quietly sobbing. "I did this to her. To you. And now I'm still alive, and she's the one that's dead?! What is that? It doesn't make any sense."

I pull his head into my lap, and he lays on the floor. We stay like this for a long time. "Did she have kids?" he whispers.

"I don't know, Peeta," I reply. I'm so angry with myself for not telling him sooner. He shouldn't have found out like this. I feel his body tremble, and I run my hand up and down his arm. I knead my thumb into his muscles, trying to get them to unknot, but he is wound like a string.

"This is all my fault," he shivers.

"No." I cradle his head in my hands and push my forehead to his. "This is Snow's fault, for torturing you. This is Coin's fault, for sending you out there. You never should have been there in the first place, Peeta. She basically put a loaded gun in the middle of the Star Squad. She was hoping you'd kill me, but everyone else there was expendable to her." I stroke his hair. "You never would have gone out there on your own."

He buries his face in my legs. "I can't do this, Katniss." He pulls away from me and sits with his back against the bathtub. "It just never stops. It's like the Games will never end. The war will never end." I straddle him and press my chest against his. I let him feel me breathe. I feel his heart pounding, and then I feel it slow, until it's steady and constant.

"It hurts right now. It will hurt later. It will always hurt," I say. "But we can't just focus on the terrible things. We need to think about the good. You need to make a list of every good thing anyone has ever done. Every good thing that will someday come to be. That someday, you'll have a bakery, and you will make sure no one in 12 is ever hungry. You will paint the leaves and give people hope. You'll teach our little girl to draw dragons with wings and trolls under bridges."

He smiles at me. It's a small smile, but it's a victory nonetheless. He rests his head against the wall, and I lay my cheek against his. I bring my mouth to his ear and whisper, "I love you, Peeta Mellark." I feel him disarm, and melt underneath me. He wraps his arms around my waist. We stay this way for a long time. We rock slightly. We are two burned, tattered, victims of war. Our skin has been lapped with fire, our bodies torn by bullets, our hearts hollowed by the pain of loss and guilt, but in every way we are a _we_.

When Peeta and I finally leave the bathroom, I'm frustrated to find Plutarch still sitting in the chair, reading a magazine.

"You're back! Wonderful!" he exclaims.

We sit on the bed and eye him warily.

"I came to discuss when we could film a segment with you. As you can imagine, the scene of you two in the bakery was really quite lovely, but the country has been on edge since the incident in the woods surrounding District 12. The last image they have of you is being rushed into the hospital, and that certainly won't do," he states.

"Well, whose fault is that?" I snarl.

"Let's let bygones be bygones, shall we? Now, I spoke with your physicians and they expect you will be released sometime next week. How about a segment the week after? Give you a few days to settle in, and then we'll send a team? I assure you, they will be highly vetted," Plutarch proposes. I now understand why Enobaria filed her teeth into fangs. If I could rip his jugular out of his throat with my teeth and watch him bleed on the floor, I think I'd do it. Peeta can feel me tensing and places a comforting hand on my knee.

"Plutarch, both Katniss and I are exhausted. Why don't we discuss this later?" he asks. Discuss this later? There is no discussion. I'm not doing this. I'm about to say as much when Plutarch stands and offers Peeta his hand.

"Sounds reasonable, young man. I'll be in touch shortly." Peeta just stares at his hand until Plutarch drops it and wipes his sweaty palm on the leg of his pants. "I'll just see myself out, then," he states and exits through the door.

I turn to Peeta, ready to protest this entire idea, but before I can form the words his mouth is on mine. It's slow. It's sensual. We have no privacy here, not really, but I find my mouth moving against his. He puts one hand on my face, the other rubs my leg. I moan a little, and he rubs my thigh harder. My legs are so sore from today's routine, and the pressure is almost too much, but so good at the same time. He leans me back and he runs circles up and down my calves and thighs, massaging and digging and lingering and I feel like I'm melting into the bed. He rubs my ankles and feet, until my entire lower half in tingling. He starts at my toes and kisses his way up my leg, onto my hips. He lifts my shirt slightly and kisses my stomach, then traces his way up my hands, my arms, my neck, until his mouth finds mine again. Our lips collide, and my tongue is in his mouth and his hands are tugging my hair. We haven't been intimate in weeks, and all the days of keeping apart keep us crashing together. I flip us over and take the advantage. I pin his hands to the bed and bite his neck. I grind my hips into his and he groans. I muffle his mouth with my hand.

The door swings open and Johanna lumbers in. She is drunk. We pull apart, but I don't think she is alert enough to understand what she walked into. She plops herself on the bed with us and tries to crawl under the covers.

Gale follows her in quickly, grabbing her hand. "Woah, Johanna… we are sleeping in the waiting room, remember?"

"Oh yeah…" she slurs and presses a sloppy kiss on his mouth. His eyes shoot to mine and I mock them, sticking my tongue out and swirling it around in the air. In a moment, Gale has lifted Johanna over his shoulder and is carrying her out of the room. She protesting, kicking and scratching him.

"Sorry…" he says to us and closes the door.

"I can't wait to go home," Peeta says.

"Me too."


	34. Chapter 34

We are discharged later that week. As our whole crew packs to head back to 12, my mother stops by our room and lingers in the doorway. She doesn't say anything, but our eyes meet and she gives me a small smile. I know she is home here, but it's time for me to go home too. She wordlessly ducks back out again, and I don't even think anyone else noticed her over the din of the noisy room. It felt final. I need to move on.

Johanna is trying to steal things from the hospital - pillows, bags of saline, socks with non-slip grips on the bottom… Gale tries to confiscate the items, and she smashes him with a pillow. He grabs another from my bed, and they beat each other with the pillows while the rest of us press ourselves against the wall to avoid becoming collateral damage. Johanna gives a particularly hard swing, and her pillow bursts in an explosion of feathers, which hang in the air around them for a moment like a cloud of down.

"Let's get out of here," Gale says and grabs her hand. We all scurry out from the room in a hurry. Effie, of all people, simply cannot control her laughter and is snickering under her breath as we sneak past the nurses' station. I'd expect her to be mortified, but she looks at me with a helpless grin when I try to shoosh her. The nurses give her an odd look, and I shove her into the elevator. The rest of our group crowds in, and we hear a groan from down the hall as the hospital staff enters our room. The elevator doors close and we all join Effie.

Our trip back to 12 is via train. We eat dinner in the dining car, and it's odd being here with more than just Effie, Haymitch, Peeta, and me. I spent hours on this train wondering about my family back in 12. About whether Gale was hunting. About whether Prim was doing her homework. About whether Madge was eating lunch alone. For once, the train doesn't feel isolating. My family is actually here with me.

I worry about Haymitch drinking after everything that happened with Mitchell's wife, but he's managed to maintain his sobriety thus far. I have no doubt Effie is a big part of that. I remember watching them on the train during the first Games. I knew people in the Capitol dressed strangely, I saw them on TV and Effie came every year, but seeing her up close in person was bizarre. She looked like slightly grotesque up close. Every bit of her was manipulated to look a certain way. Even her eyelashes were dyed. Her skin was powdered to look almost white, and made the eccentric shades on her lips and eyes pop. The intricacies of her clothes, the spike of her heel, the way she preened like a grosbeak in a puddle after a rainstorm. While I'd seen Haymitch around District 12 my whole life, I'd never been able to fully appreciate the depths of his alcoholism until the train ride after the Reaping. His clothing reeked of booze and vomit. His speech slurred. His palms and nose were bright red, and he had tiny blood vessels on the skin of his arm that crawled across him like spider webs. He was unsteady on his feet, and often shook his hands as if he was trying to ring feeling back into them. Seeing them now, together, him whispering something in her ear, and Effie smiling shyly and batting at his leg… they recovered together. This is why we fought the war.

My eyes shift to Gale and Johanna. Johanna's hair has grown in, and she's actually let it run almost down to her shoulders. She keeps it blunt and choppy. Her smile reaches her eyes now, whereas for months it was more of a facade that graced her lips and stayed glued there as if it were painted on a doll. Gale and Peeta laugh together about something, and I spy Gale's hand weaved in Johanna's under the table. He is absolutely enamored with her. He talks about her all the time when they are apart, and when she's around he's clinging to her as if he's afraid she'll slip away like sand through his fingers. I may be to blame for that complex, but Johanna isn't going anywhere. She spends hours with me in the woods, talking about the trees and home, but then she'll inhale the air of the woods, lay in the decaying birch leaves of the forest floor, and tell me she's never felt more alive than she has here in 12. She and Gale fight and rage and love. While his fire wasn't what I needed, it certainly matched Johanna's. Their relationship is passionate and fierce, but in the quiet of the late night, she tells me they talk for hours - about the future, the past, who they want to become. Lately, they've been talking about kids. Johanna wants to chase them around the yard. Teach them to climb trees. Gale wants birthday candles and full bellies. This is why we fought the war.

Delly laughs and claps her hands at Haymitch impersonating a nurse. This has become a thing our little group does - reenacting funny moments so we can live them again and again. We savor these happy reveries. I think she will move out of Victor's Village soon. Things are getting serious between her and the watermelon farmer, whom I have met a number of times and find slightly unremarkable, except that he adores Delly. His name evades me, as it does almost every time I try to remember it. Regardless, she thinks he's charming. His manners are pristine and he is a natural in the kitchen. I once found them necking on her porch, and Delly's face turned a deep red before I started whistling and pretending like I saw nothing. Even though she lost her whole family, Delly's found another one here. This is why we fought the war.

My eyes fall on Peeta. He's burned and scarred. His bakery is a memory, as is his family. He has grown so much from the boy who fought to save me in the Games. That was ready to sacrifice himself for a girl whom he'd only admired from afar. Who reveled in the joy of simply holding my hand, and never pushed me for something he knew I couldn't give. Who, despite it all, clung to a bit of the innocence from the boy with the bread, despite two arenas and a war. He's come back to me completely. He occasionally will have flashbacks, where he grips the back of a chair and rides it out until he collapses on the floor, but I'm right beside him, singing soothing melodies in his ear and rubbing his back. On nights where I wake screaming for my sister, his arms are there to comfort me. Gale is right. Maybe falling in love with Peeta wasn't my choice, but living my life with him is. This is why we fought the war.

"Hey, you're awfully quiet," Peeta comments, laying his hand on my knee. I smile softly at him. "I'm just tired. I'm ready for bed."

"Okay, let's do it," Peeta says. We rise from the table, and the family cajoles us and gives us a hard time. Peeta takes my hand and we head down the hall to our room. When he opens the door, memories flush back to me. The Victory Tour. Peeta wandering the halls of the train, hearing my screams, and rushing into my room. Pulling me back from a haze of sleeping pills that prevented me from waking myself from my nightmares. This room was the first place where I really let him in. No cameras. No show. Just Peeta and me, finding comfort in our friendship behind closed doors.

I remember one distinct night on the tour. The preceding hours had been particularly difficult. We had spent the day in District 1. I killed both their tributes - Glimmer by dropping a tracker jacker nest on her in her sleep, and Marvel by shooting him in the throat. Their families cheered for me. I knew the Career districts would be different, but they truly believed I was a champion to be celebrated. I watched as Glimmer's younger sister, who was practically a spitting image of the girl in the Arena, applauded and bounced up and down when I took the stage. Her hair was knotted in a braid similar to that I wore in the Games. I felt dizzy and sick. Peeta did the speeches, we kissed and played at being in love. When we got on the train I slammed the door to my room behind me.

 _I hear Peeta knocking quietly._

 _"I just need a minute," I sob out, but I'm having trouble keeping my breath steady, and soon I open the door. I'm nearly hyperventilating, and Peeta rushes inside._

 _"Hey," he says, and takes my hands in his._

 _"They were cheering me!" I sob. My chest is heaving uncontrollably, and my heart is racing._

 _"I know, I know." He wraps me in his arms and I hiccough and shake. I can't seem to gain control back. I'm disoriented and I don't feel like I'm getting any air. I wheeze and my chest is burning. "Okay, here's what we're gonna do. Come here." Peeta takes my hand and leads me to the far corner of the room. He sits on the floor with his back against the wall. He spreads his legs and pats his hand on the floor between them. "Sit here," he instructs, and I drop down between his legs. "Now, lean your back into my chest, okay?" I lean back until I feel him pressed against me. I'm shaking and things are starting to spin. I can't breathe. "Feel my chest? Let's breathe together, okay? I breathe, you breathe. Ready?" I nod my head. "In." I feel his chest expand and press into my back. He wraps one arm around my waist, pulling me into him, and he grasps my hand with the other. "Out." I hear him exhale slowly, and I feel his chest collapse against my back. "In." This time I try to breathe with him. My lungs fight me, but I force myself to inhale until his chest stops expanding. I can't take in anymore air. "Out." I purse my lips like his and blow the air from my lungs. "In." We breathe. "Out." We breathe. "In." We breathe. "Out." We breathe. I start to regain control._

 _After a while, I relax my body into his. He stops giving instructions, and he feels me breathe against him. Peeta rests his forehead on my back. "I love feeling you breathe," he exhales into me. I can feel his hot breath through my thin tee shirt. "It just keeps me so calm. Feeling you alive next to me." Normally these declarations make me uncomfortable, but I know what he means. It's not just about love - it's an affirmation I'm alive._

 _"I like listening to your heart beat when we sleep at night. It's like a lullaby," I confess. I can't see his face, but he slowly strokes his thumb against my hip. It's comforting, and sweet._

 _"That was the last one. No more families to face," he says._

 _"No more families," I confirm, more for myself than anything. Peeta presses a kiss on my back. He's taking a risk. He knows it. We are just friends. But I decide to accept it as a friendly kiss. I take his hand, and we climb into bed for the night._

"I have the most acute memories from the train," Peeta confesses to me. "For a long time it confused me, because I had these recollections of spending my nights here with you, and the Capitol couldn't hijack them. They had no film to distort, and we didn't talk much so there wasn't a lot of audio, either. I'd struggle to reconcile these images of you trying to kill me with calm nights on the train. Running my hands through your hair. Smelling your shampoo. The feel of your face against my chest. I think it was the one thing that kept me tethered to reality, despite what they did."

I just smile. "Effie hated it," I say. "She thought it was improper, and rumors were flying all over the train. We told her we'd be more discrete, but we didn't bother." He laughs. "Bed?" I ask, exhausted from the day.

"Bed," Peeta nods.

While I didn't intend on this being anything more than sleep, laying here in the dark, it's the first moment of privacy we've had since the shooting. The air is practically humming around us. Peeta tucks a finger under my chin and pulls my mouth to his. It's gentle and sweet, a good night kiss, but the feeling of his mouth on mine sends my body into a frenzy. My mind races back to the woods. Watching him sputter blood onto the ground and walk away from me. When I thought the last thing I'd ever see was Peeta leaving me. I almost lost him again. I've almost lost him so many times, and now I need him closer. I need to feel him everywhere. I hook my leg around his knees and pull myself on top of him. "Katniss," he moans into my mouth as I kiss every bit of skin I can see. "We need to be quiet, these walls are paper thin," he breathes into me.

I'm tugging his shirt over his head and he's rocking his hips into mine. I feel him press against me and I moan. His reaction is palpable. I feel heat release from his body like a wave. I tangle my fingers in his hair and my mouth is everywhere. He just keeps rocking and groaning quietly, and I'm already chasing the edge. He can see I'm excited, and intensifies the motion. I feel him hard against me, and I push myself into him. I whimper in his ear and it sets him off. He tugs at my underwear and I nod feverishly. His hand plummets inside. He bites his lip when he realizes how wet I am. He caresses me with one hand while he slips his fingers from his other inside me. I'm rocking with him and kissing his face, his neck, his shoulders. He hooks his fingers deeper into me and I'm overcome. I cry out and Peeta covers my mouth with his. I bite my lip to keep quiet, and my body shakes as I come down. Peeta is looking at me like I'm the most incredible thing he's ever seen.

I can't get enough of him. I dance my mouth over his nipple and he groans when he realizes I'm not stopping. His hands pull at my hair and his skin tastes like salt. I run my mouth all over his chest, down his stomach. My own stomach flips as I dare myself lower, and Peeta props himself on his elbows as I slide his boxers away. "Katniss, what are you…" He loses the words as I take him into my mouth. Sounds gurgle from his throat as I slide my lips up and down him. I try to mimic what I've done with my hands, and when I swirl my mouth at his tip I feel his entire body tremble. "I can't… I can't…" He's losing control and I love it. I pull myself on top of him, push my underwear to the side, and plunge him inside me.

Waves flush over my body as the intensity mounts again. Peeta is rocking, and I drive him deeper into me. I see his eyes roll and he grabs onto me desperately. His hands dig into my back and he buries his face in my chest. I force his eyes to meet mine. I want him with me. Here. By my side. Always. His eyes are frantic and full of wonder, like he still can't believe I've given myself to him. He gave himself to me a long time ago, and I am making up for lost time. After all the loss, the fighting, the manipulation, the death, the starvation, the gluttony, the irony and hurt and pain… I know why I survived. I know why I am here. And I'm going to spend the rest of my life making sure this boy knows that I'm not going anywhere. This is why we fought the war.

I clench my muscles around him, and Peeta's body goes tight. He buries his mouth on my shoulder and moans into me. It hurls me over the precipice and I cry out. His hand shoots over my mouth. We rock until I'm whimpering in the last throes of pleasure, and Peeta collapses back onto the bed.

After a while, he confides, "I can't tell you how many nights we spent on this train when I wanted to do that. When you'd wake, screaming and sweating and thrashing, and I'd just want to crash my mouth onto yours and make you forget." He chuckles for a moment, but it's not a real laugh. There are just too many emotions in our bed, and not enough words to express them. "I always thought I'd die before I knew you like this. And that if and when we finally did do something, it would be hurried and driven by a moment of despair. Not like this. Not when we have all the time in the world and you choose to be with me anyway."

I place soft, short kisses all over his face. He closes his eyes and his golden eyelashes flutter as my lips meet his. "It's you and me against the world, and it always will be." A grin overtakes his face, and he can't seem to wipe it off long enough to kiss me back.

"Let's go home." I say. And there's no longer a question. _Our_ home. _Our_ family. _Our_ life.


	35. Chapter 35

Peeta and I spend the rest of autumn and most of the winter healing and growing back together. He bakes, I hunt. We laugh and spend time with our family. It is boring and comfortable and joyous all at the same time. We are ravenous in our newfound physical relationship, and it feels safe, yet exciting and new. I can express myself in ways words have always failed me in the past. I watch as any doubt Peeta has about our commitment to one another melts away. We help Delly move to the watermelon farm after they announce their engagement. I know she's only a couple miles down the road, but it feels so much farther. I mope around the house for days and Peeta calls it endearing, which earns him a vicious scowl. He just smiles at my expense and keeps folding the dough in his hands.

Peeta spends hours at his house painting. His house has become more of a workspace than a living quarters. His home is with me. His house is just a house. One night, he confesses how much it hurt him that his family didn't move to Victor's Village with him. He understood – obviously the bakery needed to be tended, but he was wealthy enough to hire help. The Mellarks weren't interested. His mother insisted that's not how a family business is run. His father went along with his wife, as he always did, but gave Peeta a sad look when they moved the last of his few, meager belongings into the Village. Peeta's mother resented all of his new things, but spit at any offers. She didn't want his "charity." One night, after Peeta invited his family over for dinner at the new house, he overheard his mother say he should have killed me when the Gamemakers announced the rule change had been revoked. Now he had to split his winnings with a worthless piece of manure from the Seam. I could tell after he told me that, Peeta wished he could take it back. I don't. There are no more secrets between us.

Peeta sketches and erases and draws again the plans for his new bakery. We don't need the money of a business, but Peeta has always been a guardian, a caretaker, and he wants to feed the people of our district. In the last few months, more and more residents have returned to 12. They are always a bit trepidatious at first, when we see them in the Market or drop a welcome loaf at their new home. But slowly, our district grows and thrives. Gale is instrumental in having a new medicine manufacturing factory built in 12, and many of the skilled laborers from the mines find work there. The wealth of a steady income of the working class boosts the merchant class. A restaurant opens. People take on leisurely activities, like sports and music. We are growing from the ashes of our former home. Gale says the Senator from District 4 taught him the phrase "a rising tide lifts all ships." Looking around our district, I can see the proof.

Plutarch calls persistently. We've asked that all calls be routed through my guardian, so Haymitch and Effie do most of the negotiating. In the end, we agree that Cressida and Pollux can come film the groundbreaking of the bakery. No other crews. After much debate, Plutarch finally gives in.

When the ground thaws, the groundbreaking of Peeta's new bakery arrives faster than he's prepared for. He's on the edge of hysteria as his fingers shake trying to knot a tie around his neck.

"Here, let me," I say. He sits on the edge of the bed and I stand over him, wrapping his tie into a knot and pulling it tight.

Peeta smiles at me sheepishly. "Where'd you learn to do that?" he asks.

"Finnick," I say back, with a bittersweet melancholy in my tone. Peeta wraps his arms around my waist and rests his head on my stomach.

"I don't know that I can do this," he says aloud, though I'm not sure it's to me.

In lieu of words, I run my fingers through his hair. He breathes in deeply, and exhales slowly though his mouth. It's an intimate, quiet moment of comfort between two best friends. Two partners. Two lovers. Two human beings. I could stay in this moment forever, but my prep team bursts into the bedroom.

The entire team is a flutter, like a gaggle of birds. They begin primping and preening over both of us. Peeta locks his hand in mine and refuses to let go. I know this is hard for him. Peeta saw his prep team executed in front of him. I can feel him counting his breaths, and I know he's trying desperately not to flash back. He doesn't want to do that today.

Flavius let his hair grow out, and his corkscrew curls have fallen into loose waves with the weight of it. His look is similar to how he looked before, but toned down. His signature purple lipstick still adorns his mouth, but the shade is less royal and more of a muted lilac. Venia's angular face is framed by a straight sheet of hair. She's permitted her natural silver to overtake the aqua, and the precision in which each silver strand lays reminds me too much of Coin. Her gold tattoos still decorate her eyes, and between the gold shimmer and the silver hair, she looks almost dignified… in an outlandish kind of way. Octavia's skin has faded back to its natural color. Her auburn hair is teased and stands up high on her head, but other than that she looks mostly normal, save the three-inch false nails that jet out at the tips of her fingers.

"That mop will never due," Flavius says as he waves a discerning hand toward Peeta's hair. He leans down and pulls a pair of sheers from his bag. Before I totally know what's happening, he starts trimming away at Peeta's locks. I feel Peeta tense, and his grip on my hand becomes almost painful. I squeeze him back, hard, and he controls his breathing. I don't always know exactly what he's reliving, but Peeta clearly is terrified of the quick snips of Flavius's blade around his face.

"Don't cut too much. I like it long," I say. Octavia grins at me with a knowing smile, and after a few more locks hit the floor, Flavius pools a light cream into his palm and run his hands through Peeta's hair. His blonde curls fall like silk around his head. Peeta's eyes are still closed, but the tremors have begun to ebb. After what feels like days, Peeta and I are deemed camera ready. The team rushes out as quickly as they arrived, and we are left alone in our room. I tidy, sweep Peeta's fallen curls into my hand and toss them in the bathroom trash. I look at myself in the mirror. I delay going downstairs. I know Cressida and Pollux are in the kitchen with Haymitch. That was the deal. Peeta gives me a look, and I know it's time.

Peeta and I head down the stairs. Our hands remain locked together. I need him to keep me on this ride, and I cling to him like I did on the chariot. He clings right back. Pollux greets me first, and wraps his arms around me in a strong embrace. I put my hand on his cheek and smile. When Cressida sees me, she pulls me into her chest as well. I don't know when I became the girl that lets people hug her, but I have a special respect for Cressida and her crew. They ran into a war zone, unarmed, to tell the people what was happening. A free press is as important to democracy as free will, or at least that's what Gale tells me. She's never conformed to society's expectations, and she refused to bend to Snow's will. She didn't starve as a child. She didn't want. But she saw injustice and she couldn't sit idly by.

"Ready for your big day?" she asks Peeta.

"I don't think I'll ever be ready," he replies, and we all head down to the site of the bakery. There is nothing there yet, the groundbreaking is more ceremonial than productive. Peeta will hold a shovel and smile as he drives a spade into the earth. It is symbolic – the breaking of ground to create something new. Or rebuild something old. We are there early so Cressida can get shots of Peeta and me. I'm nervous. My hands are trembling, and Peeta rubs the back of my hand with his thumb.

"Okay, Katniss. Let's do this the old way, OK?" Cressida says as she adjusts the cameras and takes light readings. "I'll ask you a question, you answer." I nod, but my mouth feels like it's full of cotton balls. Peeta whispers something in my ear, but my heart is pounding so hard I can't even hear him. A red light flicks on on Pollux's camera, and I try to swallow the lump swelling in my throat.

I'm grateful the first question goes to Peeta. He always knows what to say.

"Peeta," Cressida starts. "How does it feel to be out here, about to break ground on the new bakery?"

Peeta takes a deep breath. "I won't lie, it's not easy. Surviving isn't easy. Being the one left behind isn't easy. But I'm not alone. We are all survivors, whether we fought in the rebellion, or lost someone to the cause, or were victimized ourselves. We are all survivors, and we are going to recover together. We will move forward together. My parents lost their lives on this spot. My brothers did as well. I'm not going to lie and say I don't feel that pain here. But I also feel their presence, and I'll feel them even stronger when I'm kneading dough, and making cookies, and using recipes passed down through generations of Mellarks. My family is not here physically, but I feel them in the air. I smell my dad in the cinnamon. I hear my brothers when a pan crashes to the floor."

 _Here, but not here._ I squeeze his hand.

He continues. "I hope maybe someday, I can teach one of my children how to make snowflake cookies, and icing that melts on your tongue. And I can't do that unless I have courage, get through the hard part, and rebuild the bakery." Peeta just talked to the nation about having kids. _His_ having kids… but it implies _our_ having kids. And I'm not panicking.

"Katniss," Cressida turns to me. "How do you think all this has changed you? The Games. The War."

I'm quiet for a minute. She can cut that later. I need to think. "I lost myself." I barely whisper. "For a minute. When I was on fire and my sister was gone. For another minute, when I went into her room for the first time since the bombing and she wasn't there. I lose myself for a minute every morning, when I wake up, and reality hits me. But I get through those minutes. I breathe. I find her there, in those spaces, and hold her close, and set her free. I changed because I've lost her. But I've become a better person for knowing her. I'd like to think Prim changed me more than any war ever could. She taught me to open my eyes. To love innocently, and freely. To accept kindness, and pay it back. To find the good in everyone. I'm still working on that last part," I say, and Cressida laughs lightly. "Grief is just a bunch of minutes, strung together by ordinary moments. It shouldn't be hard to brush your hair, but it is when you remember your sister untangling the knots of your braid. It shouldn't be hard to sing, but it is when you remember singing a friend to sleep. It shouldn't be hard to love, but it is, when it's hurt you so badly to say goodbye." I look at Peeta. "But we grow together. As a country. As a people. Those of us left behind. We grow together, and we find love, and we remember. We find peace."

Peeta breaks ground on the bakery. Everyone from the district shows up, and they cheer and applaud. That night, the entire district celebrates Spring. We gather outdoors in front of the Justice Hall, where they Capitol used to reap children. Where they used to torture and execute people. But instead, we take it back. We dance. The music hums through the night air. Food is plentiful, and everyone spins and twirls. Cressida can't stop working, and films every moment of joy she can find. Pollux claps and stomps his feet in time. Gale and Johanna only have eyes for each other, slow dancing every fast song. Gale dips Johanna down and kisses her delicately under the night stars. The watermelon farmer twirls Delly in a circle, and her curls bounce to the beat. Effie claps and Haymitch sings along to an old drinking song. Peeta and I duck into an alley, exhausted and dizzy from dancing, and desperate for a moment alone.

"Do I have anything to be sorry about?" he asks. "For what I said earlier? About kids?"

"No," I smile into his mouth as I bring my lips to his.


	36. Chapter 36

Peeta's bakery takes months to complete. As each new element comes to be, his smiles come a little easier. His laughter is freer. When the foundation is poured, we celebrate with rabbit and cider I distilled in the fall. When the frame goes up, we carve our initials in the load-bearing beam across the kitchen ceiling. When the walls go up, we sneak in at night and make love under the stars. Our hearts heal, our bodies collide, our wounds mend, our scars fade.

It happens one night in early summer. I'm lying there in our bed, watching him sleep. My body is wrapped in our sheet and nothing else. The room smells of sweat and love. Peeta's arm is draped across my body, his face nuzzled into my neck. His skin is hot against mine. The pale moonlight traces its way across his sun-kissed back. His breathing is soft and steady. His heart is strong and constant.

"Peeta," I whisper to him.

"Hmmm?" he asks, without opening his eyes. Without waking up, really.

"Peeta… marry me." I don't ask. I just say it.

"Mmhmmm…" he nods, and drifts back out.

"Peeta!" I shake his shoulder and he props himself up.

"Hey, you okay?" He asks as he rubs his eyes. Peeta rests a hand on my face, his forehead etched with quiet concern.

"Marry me," I say again. I don't think it's registered because he's still looking at me with sleepy eyes. "Peeta. Marry me."

Peeta's face transforms. "Are you serious?" he asks, grabbing my hands.

"Of course I'm serious," I say.

"Woo hoo!" he cries out into the night. He's bouncing on the bed now, energy boiling over. I've never thought too deeply about the term overjoyed before, but he has so much joy it is literally impossible to contain. He is _over_ joyed. His mouth is on mine and he's flattened me against the bed. He's running his lips all over my body. He sits up on his knees, grabs my legs and pulls me into him, pressing our bodies together as he wraps his arms around me. "I will marry you every day for the rest of my life if you want me to." He kisses my shoulder, my collar bone. His lips linger as he trails down my chest. I sigh and fall into him.

"Peeta," I whisper. "I want to get married now. Tonight." His eyes meet mine, and they are full of tears. I bat my eyes and realize mine are as well. This room is emanating joy.

"I'd have married you in kindergarten if you'd let me. I don't want to wait any longer either," he says.

I stand from the bed and wrap the white sheet around my body. It's not much for a wedding dress - ivory, shapeless, and plain, but it smells like us. It trails behind me a little, and I lift the bottom so as not to trip on the stairs. Peeta grabs some pajama pants from his dresser and takes the stairs two at a time. I sit in the living room and start a fire. It's already so hot in the dry, summer night, and soon the fire is roaring. Peeta brings in a slice of bread from the loaf he made this morning. It's filled with nuts and raisins. I recognize this bread from my childhood. It's hearty. It's filling. It's life.

Peeta joins me sitting in front of the fire. It crackles and pops like music. I take everything in. The white sheet billows from my body as a breeze chases its way through our living room. We're finally here, in our home. Peeta has painted motifs on our walls – the lake, the ocean in 4, the Meadow. It feels alive. All around the house, perched on window sills and tucked in corners, are things Prim thought were pretty – a white rock, a dried flower, a bird's feather. And propped in front of the fire is the boy with the bread. We've both grown. Too fast, but not fast enough to reach this moment.

I'm overcome with the emotion of it all. The symbolism. Our home. The bread. The fire. Once again, my life is churning in repetitive circles, but if I could live this moment again and again I would. I close my eyes and see him toss the bread in the rain. I watch him on the train, dunking his bread in his hot cocoa. I copy him and feel the sweet chocolate invade my senses. I watch Cinna set us ablaze. I catch us in the screens, brilliant and burning like a sun. I see him kill that girl in front of the fire. His heart breaking in mercy and pain. I see myself, running from fireballs and feeling the first of many scorches to my body. I hold the bread from District 11, an unprecedented gift of thanks in the Arena, and think back to Peeta telling me about breads across Panem. I kiss Peeta, and feel my body ablaze, a hunger churning inside me. I see him standing in Haymitch's kitchen, cold and guarded, slicing bread for our mentor. I taste the cheese buns he made for me after I hurt my foot. Things move faster then. The parade. The picnic. My dress in flames as I spin. The sea green bread. The Arena walls crumbling in an inferno. Losing him. Hallways and closets and bread that hurt my teeth. My prep team, beaten and starved over a slice of bread. The war. The bombing. Peeta and I kindled in flames.

And then home.

Bread for hello.

Bread for I'm sorry.

Bread for I love you.

Fire for warmth.

Fire for light.

Fire for an oath.

Peeta takes my hand in his. I think he's going to soliloquize his love, but instead he just tears the bread in half and hands me a piece. It's small, laying in the palm of my hand. I hold it to the fire and feel the tips of my fingers complain about the heat. The bread chars. I watch Peeta do the same.

We are quiet and still. We don't need to make promises aloud. We know what we are giving to each other. My soul ignites. I lift the bread to Peeta's mouth and his lips ghost my fingers. He lifts his bread to mine, toasted and warm.

"Peeta," I breathe. He lifts an eyebrow at me. "Stay with me."

He brings his mouth to mine and kisses me like I'm made of porcelain. Delicate. Still.

And he whispers the only promise that's ever mattered. "Always."


	37. Epilogue

The next years of our lives are full of the joy our youths lost. It takes Peeta and me years to get pregnant, but I revel in our time together, just the two of us. When we finally do conceive, the elation is incomparable, but the pregnancy is not easy for me. I'm terrified every time I feel the baby move. I wake up in fits at night. But Peeta is there to comfort me, soothe me, tell me it's alright. He talks to my stomach. I sing. When Lily finally arrives, the sight of Peeta holding her in his arms nearly makes my heart burst.

The bakery is always busy. Peeta thrives in the bustle of the shop. Lily is a constant at his feet, tripping him up in the beautiful way only a daughter can fluster her dad. He sits her on the counter and paints a flower on her cheek in food coloring. She giggles. She digs with me in my garden, planting seeds and getting dirt under her nails. I send her back to the bakery filthy, and Peeta runs her tiny hands under the sink. She is a perfect little girl.

It took us so long to conceive Lily that Reed comes as a surprise.

We are lying in our bed, Lily passed out between us after a long day of digging herbs in the Meadow. She starts school in a year. I know she will learn about the Games, and the War, and the role her parents played in freeing Panem. But for now, I want to keep her innocent. For just a little longer, she can be my little girl, with the straw-colored hair and stone gray eyes.

"Do you think Lily would want a brother or sister?" I ask Peeta. He smiles at me sheepishly, and pulls our daughter in close. He's sure she was our little miracle, and he doesn't dare hope for more.

"She'd love that, Katniss, but she loves our family just as we are, too," he replies. "Plus, she spends enough time chasing the Hawthorne boy around." That boy is nothing but trouble. He's 7. Passionate, like his parents. Temperamental, like his parents. Mischievous, like his parents. But oh so full of love. He loves with all his heart, like his parents.

"Did I ever tell you why I wanted to name her Lily?" I ask.

"No," he says, and rolls on his side. We cocoon our daughter between us.

"It's what Prim named her doll. The one I traded for at the Hob. She told me she'd name her daughter Lily, one day." My eyes sting with tears, but they are happy ones. Remembering Prim hurts, but it makes her feel alive still, all these years later. Peeta weaves his fingers in mine and kisses the back of my hand.

"So I have no idea what to name this one," I say.

"What?" His gaze flickers up to mine in realization. "WHAT?!" He shoots up, his eyes sparkling with excitement. Peeta leaps from the bed and lifts me in his arms. He spins me around in the air and kisses me until I can't breathe. Lily is sitting on our bed, rubbing the slumber from her eyes and looking at us with confusion. She doesn't know what is going on, but she knows whatever it is, it's happy a moment.

Reed is so like his sister, and yet in many ways very different. He spends hours with me in the woods hunting. He walks in silence. He has a knack for snares, and idolizes his Uncle Gale. He has dark hair, and sparkling blue eyes. He is smart as can be. He and his dad play chess late into the evening, and soon he's beating Haymitch too. He paints. Sometimes I lose my boys for a whole day, and when I sneak over to their studio in Peeta's old house, I see he's filled canvasses with brilliant gold leaves and animals he's seen in the woods with me.

Delly has a gaggle of children. Her first pregnancy was triplets. Our family grows and love swells. Haymitch and Effie spoil them all rotten. Whenever we aren't looking, they are sneaking the kids sweets or pushing them on the tire swing Haymitch hung on a tree in his yard. Haymitch raises geese. They do not get along with Effie, but they make him happy, so she lets it be. One time, Effie sends Lily home in full make-up. She's 5.

Johanna and Gale calm down a bit, but their passion for each other never ebbs.

Delly and Skyler fill their farm with fruit and vegetables. They spend their weekends in the Market. Delly thrives in her social life.

Effie and Haymitch get on each other's nerves and love every minute of it. They tease and bicker, and behind closed doors they love each other fiercely.

Peeta still has flashbacks. He clings to the backs of chairs and locks every muscle in his body. He shakes when he comes down. But I can pull him back. And so now, can Lily. I still have nightmares. I thrash and scream at night. But Reed will curl into me, and I find my breath. I'll explain to them someday.

When we are playing, the four of us in the Meadow, I don't think of it as a graveyard. I think of it as a place of rebirth. And when I see a dandelion burst its happy, yellow face in between the blades of grass, I remember that things will be okay. We all lie on our backs, heads in the center, legs spread out like a starburst. Our eight hands clasp in a circle and we stare up at the sky. We take turns telling each other good things we've seen that day. Acts of kindness.

Peeta giving a small boy a cupcake on his birthday. Peeta remembers all the children in the district's birthdays.

Delly tying Lily's shoe.

Sae delivering a meal to a new mother.

Thom pulling a coin from behind Reed's ear.

Daddy kissing Mommy when he thinks no one is looking.

 _It's a game. Repetitive. Tedious. But there are worse games to play._


	38. Thank You

This is a quick thank you for reading my first ever story! I only discovered FanFiction a few months ago, and obviously was a bit behind the 8-ball publishing a Hunger Games story in 2017. To be candid, I assumed no one would even read this. Needless to say, every review, every favorite, every follow made me so amazingly happy. You are all so fantastic!

I think Suzanne Collins is amazing. I think the trilogy is beautiful.

A special shout out:

To **_jroseley_** , **_stjohn27_** , and **_fluffytardis_** \- Thank you for all your encouraging words. Whenever I saw an alert come in for one of your reviews, it made me feel really special. You all inspired me to keep writing this. I thought of you every time I posted a chapter. To be honest, I'm not sure I would have seen this through had it not been for the three of you. So you three anonymous, beautiful people, thank you.

To _Niqachita_ – Thank you for your criticisms and praise. I hurried to publish the chapter following the shooting because I knew you were so upset. Hope I made it up to you. :)

Also, to whoever the Guest was that wrote:

 _"Can I walk you home?"_  
 _"I'm not going home."_  
 _(I AM home.)_  
 _I can't smile enough after reading that._

I couldn't smile enough after reading your review. So thanks.

And to everyone that made it this far - thanks for reading my story. Thanks for being part of this. Thanks for the love. Sending it back atcha.

Signing off (for now).  
MP

P.S. I may write some outtakes to this story from other character's perspectives, so please favorite me as an author if you'd like notifications.


	39. We Face Our Fears - Sneak Peek

Okay.. I did it. I just published the first chapter of We Face Our Fears. This is meant to be a companion piece to this story. Go check it out.

Here's a sneak peak...

CHAPTER 19 - MRS. EVERDEEN

 _I knew one of my kids would be dead. I just didn't think it would be Prim._

 _So when I see Katniss crawl onto the couch and curl herself into Peeta, I pause at the bottom of the stairs and look at them. It's practiced. It's familiar. It isn't the first time. I want to tell her I love her, that I'm sorry. I want to ask how she can bear to be in this house, walk through these halls and not feel haunted at every step, like I do now. I want to tell her to be careful with her heart, but not too careful. After everything that happened, I never expected Katniss and Peeta to find their way back to one another._


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